The Shadow Tunnels
by Angel's-Decree
Summary: The Right Arm is attacking WICKED, providing the Gladers with the time they need to save Thomas. But they don't know that after the Gladers escaped, two remain. In saving Teresa, Thomas cost himself the chance at a new life. Now they have to find a way to shut down WICKED. But secrets still lie beneath WICKED, secrets that shouldn't be known.
1. A Costly Save

**Hey guys, this is my first story on FanFiction. I plan to add several more chapters over the next couple of weeks, maybe one every Sunday or something like that. Anyway, don't hesitate to tell me about any mistakes I made, from spelling to plot-holes. That's it I think, so just enjoy reading I guess :). **

A splintering, shattering noise split the air so loudly that Thomas looked back. His eyes drifted upwards, where a massive section of the ceiling had torn loose. He watched, hypnotized, as it fell towards him. Teresa appeared in the corner of his vision, her image barely discernible through the clogged air. Her body slammed into his, shoving him towards the maintenance room. His mind emptied as he stumbled backwards and fell, empty of all but one thought: _Not Teresa!_ Thomas' arm flew out from his side, taking Teresa's hand in his own, pulling her down with him. The ceiling hit the ground with a deafening _thud_. Thomas opened his eyes and saw Teresa's face looking down at him. He was uncomfortably aware at how close their bodies were. Dust floated across his eyes and invaded his throat. Another crack cut through the air like knives, and looking behind him, he saw the Flat-Trans get buried beneath a ton of rock and cement.

"Thomas…" Teresa gasped.

"Teresa, don't ever do that again. I may never forgive you for what happened in the Scorch, but I couldn't imagine a world where you didn't stand by my side," Thomas breathed. Then he was painfully aware of the weight on his foot. The falling roof had trapped him, holding his foot fiercely.

"Oh my god Thomas, your foot. We need to get you some help," Teresa said worriedly, her concern shining in her eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm lucky enough to have a spare," Thomas teased, making a lame attempt at a joke. "Right now we need to find a way out of here before The Right Arm brings the entire building down on top of us."

Teresa looked at Thomas' face and then too his foot. She couldn't see any way that they were getting Thomas' foot out from under the slab of concrete. A glint of silver caught her eye, and she grabbed a piece of broken pipe that lay by the door.

"Okay, Thomas, this might hurt a bit, but I think it's the only way to get you out of here," she explained. Thomas nodded, closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Teresa shoved the pipe under the rock and pushed down with all her strength. The broken ceiling lifted the couple of centimeters Thomas needed to wrench his foot free. Teresa let go of the pipe and fell down, her energy was spent.

"Thanks, it's broken, but at least we can get out of this hell-hole now," Thomas said between gritted teeth. Teresa got back on her feet and slipped her arm over Thomas' neck. She pulled him up, then lent back down and grabbed the broken pipe lying at her feet. They took a couple of steps before Thomas cried out and fell to his knees.

"Come on Thomas, we just need to make it out of here then the Right Arm can help," Teresa urged Thomas on, pulling him back to his feet. Thomas lent heavily on Teresa, limping badly.

"Alright, let's go," he said with a fierce determination in his voice. They walked out of the room slowly, each step taking longer than the last. Teresa pulled Thomas to the right, her stern look making him turn obediently.

"Do you know where we're going?" Thomas asked her.

"Of course, we spent our childhood here, together. After I had the Swipe removed I could remember every hall and every room," she said. Thomas nodded and held Teresa even tighter. They walked past a million different rooms: Room 04, Room 607, room 031. It was like there was no order to where the rooms were. Teresa lead the way down a million different halls, turning left and right at what seemed to be random intervals. Going down the white tiled halls, with no idea of where he was heading or what lay ahead, it reminded Thomas of his time in the maze. It reminded him of how it all started, when there where thousands of questions and every answer only made more questions spring up. But back then it had been simple, you knew who you could trust, you knew when something was good and something was bad. The real world was much worse, no matter how bad the maze could get the world outside would always be worse. Where the very air you breathe could deceive you, and lies lurked around every corner.

Teresa pulled Thomas around another corner, and before them stood a door. Big, white, and beckoning them towards it. Teresa let go of Thomas and ran towards the door, twisting the handle violently. The door swung open, and Teresa rushed out, breathing in the cool night air. Then she remembered Thomas and his injury and rushed back inside, quickly taking his arm and pulling him along with her. She started moving faster, and tugging harder. Thomas stumbled and hit the floor hard, gasping for air.

"Teresa, go find the Right Arm, get some more help, I can't go any further," Thomas wheezed, struggling to find the oxygen that would fill his lungs. Teresa nodded and went gently lowered Thomas onto the wall. Then she turned around and ran towards the door.

She made it halfway there, before the walls started hissing. Teresa skidded to a halt and looked around, trying to find the source of the noise. The hissing grew louder, and a square of tiles on the floor slid open. A puff of steam exploded out of the inky darkness, and the sound of gears filled the room. A reddish dome started rising out of the hole and quickly grew into a head, and face. The gears stopped as an identical set of tiles filled the space of the old ones. Explosions started to echo their way down the white halls, shaking the ground Thomas sat on. Red lights slid out of the walls and filled the hall with a faded crimson light, making the walls look as though blood had dried over them.

Thomas rolled over, trying to hide his eyes from the piercing light. But in doing so he saw what had frozen Teresa, what had filled the room with the stench of fear and hate. A booming voice shattered Thomas' ear drums as it spoke. The words were clear and unmistakable, as was the voice that joined them.

"Make sure no-one escapes, all attackers must be apprehended or killed. Priority 6 security has been activated; all guard personnel must turn on their Signal Braces," the voice commanded. Thomas covered his ears, refusing to believe it. "And Thomas," Janson sneered through the loud speaker, "Don't think that I've made escaping easy on you and your little girlfriend."


	2. Out of WICKED

Thomas' entire being was filled with horror. _Janson's dead, he can't be right now. Ratman's dead, I killed him myself_ Thomas thought. Only moments ago, Thomas had throttled Janson, he'd felt his bones cracking and had felt the life drain out of him. 

"Thomas," Teresa called back to him. "Did you hear that? I thought Janson was dead?"

"So did I, apparently he fooled us both, the shank," Thomas said, regrettably. He looked at Teresa for the first time since she laid him down, wondering why she hadn't left yet. He saw her backing away slowly, her hands held in front of her. Something was obviously blocking the door, but Teresa was blocking Thomas' view.

"Teresa, what's going on? Who's there?" He asked. She put one hand behind her back, and gestured for Thomas to com towards her. Thomas slowly got to his feet, leaning on the wall. He slid his way over until he was level with Teresa. She looked at Thomas, fear blazing in her eyes. Thomas could feel it rolling off of her in waves. Knowing that Teresa was scared only made it worse for Thomas; she was one of the bravest people he knew.

Something slapped the ground ahead of them. Thomas snapped his head to the side, and what he saw shocked him speechless. He guessed that this is what had made the hissing noise earlier. It was a large man, completely bald and pale, except for the top of his head, where it looked like all his hair has been burnt off. But that wasn't all. Thick black horns protruded from the top of his head, adding an extra foot or so to his height. And his arms were horribly disfigured; his hands had no fingers, but instead had been sharpened to points, as has the side of his arms.

Thomas stared at the man for a while longer, before he bent over and dry-retched. His insides felt like they'd been turned inside out and tied together. He looked up and saw the man take another step, his leg shaking slightly.

"Thomas, what do we do?" Teresa whispered, like noise would make it angry. She looked down at Thomas, her face twisted mess of horror, anger, and pity. Thomas looked up, and stared into Teresa's eyes. It was obvious what Thomas wanted to do, and Teresa agreed. They had to kill it. They couldn't let it live like that, in a constant state of suffering.

"Go," Thomas said. Teresa tightened her grip on the pipe in her hand, and started running towards the creature. It lowered its head and let out a tremendous, animalistic roar, then charged, its bare feet slapping the ground again. Teresa waited until the last minute, then dived to the side and let the creature run straight past her. It skidded to a stop right in front of Thomas, its heavy scent filling his nostrils.

"Here, come on boy, I'm right here!" Teresa yelled at it, taunting it, drawing it away from Thomas. It slowly turned around, its eyes drilling into her. She banged the pipe on the wall, enraging it even more. The creature looked her up and down, as if searching for something. It shook its head and snorted, then raised its pointed hands and walked towards Teresa. As it got closer; Teresa could feel her resolve ebbing away, like snow melting on a hot day. She started walking backwards, back towards the door. The night air was cold and Teresa's breath started to plume in front of her. The creature kept on walking, its face contorted in rage at this girl who refused to run. It started to run towards her again. Teresa braced herself, ready to dive to the side again. The creature didn't lower its head this time, but held its arms above its head, hoping to strike her down as soon as it could. When it was within a metre, Teresa dived to the side again. But this time the creature knocked her back against the wall. It followed up by digging its sword-arm into her shirt and dragged her up the wall. Teresa wriggled and squirmed as hard as she could, but she couldn't escape now. She kicked and punched it, but every blow only made it angrier. Thomas struggled to his feet, and stumbled to where Teresa dropped the pipe. He picked it up and raised it above his head, then brought it smashing down upon the monster. It roared in pain, dropping Teresa as it crashed into the wall. Teresa breathlessly ran towards Thomas and takes the pipe, then took off after the monster. She dragged the pipe along the ground, sharpening it slightly and then brought it round in a massive semi-circle and connected with the beasts head. It screamed again, one of the most human sounds it's made. Teresa danced around it, diving and jumping, ducking and rolling, but all the while bringing the pipe down on the creature again and again. It spun dizzyingly fast, trying to catch Teresa with its arms, but she's too quick and jumped out the way. The monster looked to the ceiling and let out a terrifying roar, filled with pain and anger. As it dropped back to the ground, Teresa was standing there, the pipe held in both hands. She raised it like a baseball bat, then swung it round and smashed it into the creatures head. Its mouth hung open, a stunned look left on its face as its legs buckled and it crashed to the floor. Thomas limped over, his face grim.

"Don't worry about," he said, knowing how Teresa's feeling. "You didn't have a choice."

"Yeah, I guess so…" She said, still not felling any better.

"Come on, the explosions are getting closer, we need to get out," Thomas urged Teresa. She nodded, still looking at the dead creature, before taking Thomas's arm and helping him walk outside.

The crisp night air flowed all around Thomas and Teresa as they walked out the door. Their breath plumed in front of them, and the cold wind bit their skin. They heard noises ahead of them and ducked behind a bush, fearing members of WICKED.

"I think the attacks going well, don't you?" One man said.

"It could be going better, I mean, those kids haven't come back out yet," A woman replied.

"Yeah, but the entire attack wasn't meant for them. If they live or die in there, it's not on our heads," He countered.

"I guess… anyway, we've still got orders, plant some charges, blow the back wall and bottle-neck any remaining WICKED staff," She said, her voice getting softer as they walked away. Thomas and Teresa stepped out from behind the bush.

"Should we follow them? You know, see if they can takes us back to the Right Arm?" Thomas asked.

"No, they could take forever planting charges and the Right Arm's probably just around the corner, so it'd be faster walking straight there," Teresa answered.

Thomas wrapped his arm around her shoulder and leant on her, "let's go then." They slowly made their way around the WICKED complex. Thomas was only now realizing how big it was. Suddenly a thought occurred to him, "Teresa?" he queried.

"Right here," she said.

"What was it like having the Swipe removed?" He asked.

"It was… strange. I knew what to expect, but, I didn't realize how much I was missing until I got it all back," she began. "I didn't realize how much WICKED was because of us. Thomas, we did so much evil: taking kids away, designing the maze and creating the Grievers. It was all us."

"But it wasn't all bad, we taught the kids, gave them a good life for years. It was only when the first group caught the Flare and we started the Purge that we started doing bad things. But we never did anything intentionally, you know that right? Janson didn't tell us what was going on," she explained. "Janson didn't-" she stopped.

"Ratman," Thomas hissed. "When I get my hands on him, the shank'll wish he'd never been born." Thomas' hands were shaking violently; he was clenching them so hard his knuckles had turned white.

"Thomas, you need to calm down, we still don't know who's out here," Teresa said worriedly. Thomas was visibly shaking. Teresa stopped walking and dropping Thomas' arm. "Thomas, look at me," she demanded. Thomas slowly turned around, now visibly shaking. Teresa took his hands, "Thomas, I know you hate Ratman more than anyone in the world, but right now you need to forget that. Do you understand? You're getting louder, and you're shaking," She held his hands to his face so he could see for himself. "Thomas you will have your chance to find Janson and settle your unfinished business, but until then you have to be quiet, and calm down." Thomas looked at her blankly for second before he hung his head.

"I'm sorry Teresa; I don't know what came over me. It's just, Janson is supposed to be dead. I saw him lying there, there's no way he could've survived," Thomas said. "He should be buried under a ton of rock right now, not issuing death threats."

"Well, for now, you can forget about Janson. We can sort him out later, after your foot is better and we've had some rest," Teresa assured him. Thomas nodded and put his arm around her again. They walked for another ten minutes or so, silently, taking in the sounds of the night. They came round a corner of the building to find fires raging, and several members of wicked tied up and leaning against the wall. Each one looked at Thomas and Teresa with hope. One spoke of them spoke up, "Thomas, Teresa, please, let us go. We never did anything bad, I swear," He pleaded. The others nodded vigorously, some even daring to smile at the prospect of the Final Candidate letting them free. But Thomas and Teresa walked straight past, not even acknowledging that the prisoners were there. Then the bright light of the Right Arm camp came into view.

As the pair walked through the camp, amazed eyes followed them. Thomas ignored them all, but Teresa waved and said hello to the people she recognized from her time with the Right Arm. They walked up to the biggest tent; a big, grey, ugly thing that was so patched over is hard to find the actual entrance. When they did, Thomas tightened his grip around Teresa and together, they walked inside.


	3. The Commander's Tent

**Hey guys, just like I promised, a new chapter on Sundays. This one's longer than the other two. And sorry if it's bit boring, but I promise there will be more action in the next one. Also I've added my original character. Please tell me of any errors I made, I want to improve my writing as much as I can. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it :) **

As they walked through the door, they saw Vince jump out of his chair, knocking it over in the process. "Thomas! Teresa! You're alive!" He cried in his mad scramble to get to them.

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Teresa spat back at him. Vince stopped and his normal look of calmness and superiority settled on his face. His dash for them was in the past as he strode back to his chair and sat down.

"We did the best we could," He said, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Ha! If you trying to kill us then yes, you did do the best you could," Teresa accused him. "But instead Thomas and I had to find a way out of WICKED ourselves."

Vince's eye's narrowed on Teresa, "If you knew what things WICKED had done, you'd be as determined to destroy them as I am. As all of the Right Arm is." Vince gestured around the table, to the rest of the Right Arm officials who were nodding their heads. "If destroying WICKED costs the lives of two kids, then so be it."

"Not any two _kids_," Teresa hissed. "The only two kids you have left that actually know something about WICKED."

"That's irrelevant, if WICKED is destroyed, we have no need of informants," Vince finished, giving Teresa a look that said the conversation was over. Teresa let out frustrated groan, equaling the one of pain the Thomas just gave. She quickly turned around and saw Thomas holding his ankle, rocking back and forth gently.

"Teresa, do think the Right Arm has any doctors?" He whispered his voice strained and rough.

"I have no doubt; will you be alright here while I go find one of them?" She asked. Thomas nodded his head quickly and Teresa ran back outside.

Thomas sat there for a couple of minutes before he turned to Vince and said, "You don't realize what you're destroying when you blow-up WICKED, do you?"

Vince looked at him blankly, and then shook his head slowly.

"You said yourself that the money WICKED was given could have been used to prevent the disease from spreading, right?" Thomas queried. Vince nodded his head, recalling the night that was, what? Two days ago? Three? "Well, why don't you get it all back. Millions of dollars' worth of technology there for the taking. You could use it yourself, or sell it and then use that money to do something. Rather than just blowing it up."

Realization dawned on Vince's face as he picked up his phone and frantically dialled a number. He got up and walked out of Thomas' earshot, but all the time speaking anxiously.

Thomas looked at the rest of the people sitting at the table. It was easy to see that there was no shortage of people eager to join the Right Arm. About twenty people sat at the metal table, either sifting through papers, or on the phone to an unknown person. A couple of them cast him wary glances, others outright stared at him with apprehension in their eyes. The pain in Thomas' foot flared up again and he moaned loudly. A couple of the people looked at him, annoyed. He felt as though his life was seeping out of him through his foot. The walls were creeping up on him, and every sound was amplified until it was unbearable. An indescribable urge to run away overcame Thomas and he rose from his seat and limped out of the tent.

He spun around crazily, every part of him telling him to run. Someone called his name and shocked him into overdrive. Suddenly his foot felt brand new, and he took off running, adrenaline surging through his veins. He didn't know how long he ran for, in the Right Arm camp everything looked the same. And it extended for miles in every direction. No matter where he went, people always watched him, walls closed in on him. The wind screeched past him and rain began to launch an attack from above. He kept on running, mud running up his pants and his shirt soaking. He heard people running after him and turned around. He saw Teresa and Vince chasing him, screaming his name only for the storm to steal the sound. The last of his adrenalin dripped from his fingers and he slumped to the ground, overcome by exhaustion.

"Thomas! What were you thinking?" Teresa yelled at him, her fury burning like the sun. "You could have died, you could have gotten lost," she fell to the ground, hugging him tightly. "I don't know what I would've done if you disappeared."

Vince stepped and picked up Thomas by his shirt, "Thomas, don't pull a stunt like that ever again, otherwise your foot will be the least of your worries." He yelled over the wind. "Especially now, we need you more than ever."

A medical team arrived and picked up Thomas, quickly running him towards the infirmary.

Teresa turned to Vince, "Why'd you change your mind, suddenly Thomas and I are important?"

"Thomas convinced me that we need you."

"Oh, yeah well… he has a way of doing that."

"Teresa," Vince said as he looked at her. "You and Thomas are the only links to WICKED that we have, now that Gally's gone, we need every piece of info that you two have to offer."

"I'll help you as much as I can, but Thomas didn't have the Swipe removed, he remembers nothing about WICKED, other than that he hates them."

"Well you'll have to convince Thomas to remember, because, at the moment, nothing is more important than his memories," Teresa shook her head and began to say something, but Vince cut her off. "Teresa, I know what you're going to say, but you don't realize how much Thomas' memories would help us. We _need _those memories, without them, WICKED will survive." Teresa looked up at Vince, and nodded. Vince nodded back and started to stride away.

'Wait, Vince!" Teresa called. Vince paused and glanced back at her. "Why does this suddenly matter? I mean, Thomas and me. When we talked before, we were irrelevant, but now suddenly our memories matter the most? I just don't understand."

Vince walked back to her and grabbed her shoulder, "Thomas convinced me to… investigate WICKED instead of destroy it." He said. "We went in and saw people running around, members of WICKED. We think that they've caught the Flare." He uttered. "But there was one man who was different, he seemed to control them. Then they saw us and ran deeper into the complex."

"Ratman…" Teresa whispered.

"What was that?" Vince asked. Teresa continued to stare at the ground, her mind ticking over every detail of Ratman that she could remember.

"Oh, nothing, it's nothing," She said absently. Vince looked at her cautiously, then turned and walked back to the main tent.

Thomas woke up with a bright, white light shining in his eyes. He lifted his head and only saw the whiteness covering every surface. _Where am I? _He thought. H recalled pain, and voices, but his mind was bogged down in a swamp of amnesia. He tried to swing his legs over the side of his bed, but only his left leg obeyed. He looked down his body, and saw that his right foot was encased in a fibre-glass cast. He tried to move it, but it felt like that part of his body had disappeared. He sat up in his bed and saw several other people in the building, all of them with some type of bandage on their am, or leg, or their face. It looked like the Right Arm had just a many injuries as WICKED would've. Thomas lied back in his bed, the light shining on his face again.

"Uh, hello?" the voice startled Thomas so much he almost ripped his foot from the cast. His eyes mentally ripped apart the room, looking for the source of the sound. He finally settled on a boy about his age sitting to his right.

The boy had sat there quietly, watching while Thomas took in his surroundings. He'd been assigned to watch over the boy the moment he'd entered the infirmary. For two days he'd watched the boy sleep, and he'd waken only moments ago to find himself trapped. He waited for him to notice that he wasn't alone, but the boy had simply lain back down.

"Hello? You can see me right?" boy asked again.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Hi, I'm Thomas," Thomas was choking on his words, each one sounded wrong.

"Yeah," The boy smiled. "I know. It's sort of a rule that if you watch someone for two days, you have to know their name."

"Two day! Have I been asleep for two days?" Thomas cried.

"Shhh," the other boy warned him. "You're not the only person here ya know, other people are trying sleep. You're gonna wake them up screaming and crying like that." Thomas just stared at the boy.

"What?" the boy asked.

"I don't know," Thomas pondered. "You're just weird."

"I get that a lot. People say I talk too much, but I just get excited and then I can't help it. Like what I'm doing right now, I just talk and talk and talk–" Thomas had stopped him short.

"Yeah, and you tell me not to wake other people up," Thomas grinned. He liked this boy; he was fun, nice and happy.

"Yeah, practice what you preach, huh? Anyway, I'm Hadar, Hadar Odern. I think I've been assigned as your protector or something. I've just got to make sure you don't go crazy and run off again. Cranks still walk around here ya know. Gotta be careful of them buggars, don't even care if they get hurt, as long as you do as well."

"Nice to meet ya shank," Thomas said.

Hadar cringed, "I heard Gally talk like that, but you don't say it right."

"What do ya mean, I don't say it right?" Thomas objected.

"Well with Gally, it sounded natural; with you, it's like you don't understand what you're saying, but you say it anyway," Hadar explained. Thomas glared at him, as if trying to stare holes through him.

"Don't do that, you're gonna blow your eyes out their sockets or something," Hadar laughed. Thomas' stopped staring at him and started laughing as well. Thomas could already tell that he and Hadar were going to be good friends, even if it was in unusual circumstances.

"Anyway man, Vince wanted to see you when you woke up. So up ya get," he demanded.

"In case you forgot, I've got a ton of white stuff covering my foot. I can't even wriggle my toes," Thomas complained. Just to see if he could, Thomas tried to wriggle his toes in his cast, but his assumption was right; his entire foot was sealed in place.

"Don't worry, we found wheel chairs while going through WICKED, everyone's using one now," Hadar said proudly. "I case you were wondering, I was the one who found them. And yours works fine, I tested it earlier when I was bored."

"Having a wheel chair doesn't magically make me able to lift my leg."

"Oh right, I'll help you with that," Hadar ran away and came back with a big, silver wheel chair. "Alright, we've got to do this together, so, on the count of three, we'll both lift your leg off the bed and onto the floor, okay?"

"Good that," Thomas replied.

"Alright, 1…2…3." Hadar gripped Thomas' foot painfully hard and lifted it from the bed and onto the floor. "Did you even help at all?" He asked.

"I did what I could," Thomas smiled. Hadar shook his head and muttered something under his breath before pushing Thomas outside. They headed away from the infirmary, towards a large Tent placed out of everybody's way.

"Did you move Vince's tent?" Thomas questioned.

"Nah, this is the commanders tent, it's where we organise all the attacks and stuff. The other one is for when visitors came around. People like the president, or a scientist or someone. You were lucky to catch Vince while he was there," Hadar explained.

"Oh, okay," Thomas accepted it as he made a mental note of the two tents. Hadar wheeled Thomas into the tent and set him down next to Teresa, who'd been waiting anxiously ever since Thomas had been carried away.

"How are you?" She asked.

"A bit tired," Thomas replied. "But other than that I'm fine."

"You'd think that after sleeping for two days, sleep would be the last thing on your mind," Teresa smirked.

"Yeah well, sleeping hasn't been easy these last couple of days," Thomas argued playfully. Teresa shushed him and nodded her head to the front, where Vince was waiting for them to stop talking.

"Thank you, you two," Vince grumbled. "Now, if we can get one with the meeting, that'd be great. The first thing we need to discuss is the amount of technology we found in WICKED." Vince droned on about things like that for another or so. Thomas began to feel himself slipping into a deep sleep before Gally was mentioned.

"Wait, wait! What was that about Gally," he cried.

Vince looked at Thomas with annoyance clouding his eyes, "I said that Gally radioed in yesterday."

"But… how is that possible, I thought all the satellites were destroyed by the solar flares?"

"These are different radios; they send signals straight to one another instead of bouncing them from satellites. But they only work over a certain distance, 2000km at the most." Vince said. "Gally and the others have to be within a 2000km radius of the Right Arm otherwise the message would have been indecipherable."

Thomas tried to stand, but Hadar held him down, "Why don't we for looking for them?" Thomas yelled angrily. "We could get away from the Flare, and with this many people, re-populating Earth would be easy. We wouldn't have to worry about anything." Thomas' face was now bright red, anger radiating off of him.

"Thomas, you must understand that right now our top priority is to prevent WICKED from rising again. It wouldn't take much to restart the Maze trials again," Vince said calmly. "After WICKED is gone we can look for the other immunes, but until then, you have to help us."

Thomas began to start yelling again, but Teresa stopped him, "He's right, Thomas. If we stop WICKED, then that stops anymore families from losing kids. I know you don' want anyone going through what we did. If we help the Right Arm, they'll help us." Thomas stared at Teresa for a while, not really wanting to listen to her anymore. But as realization dawned on him, he started to nod his head and then slumped back in his wheel chair.

"Okay, well, Gally's message said that he and over a hundred other Immunes made it to Paradise, and that it isn't all that it seems. The message ends there. We assume that Gally may have been on the run, and made it out of the transmission area." Thomas looked like he was about to speak up again, but Vince cut him off, "Gally and the other are perfectly capable of handling themselves. And we've got a 24 hour team on the radios, so if any other messages come through, we'll know." Thomas nodded his gratitude and looked at Teresa.

"They'll be fine, they've got Minho and Jorge and the others, nothing could stand against all of them," She smiled. "Minho will protect them, all the Gladers will." Thomas smiled back at her and grabbed her hand.

Vince continued, "Anther issue is the army of Cranks that we saw in WICKED." He looked around the table, and everyone there had fear plastered on their faces.

One man spoke up, "Sir, couldn't we just kill them, it couldn't be that hard."

"Yes, I suppose we could just kill them," Vince said. The man's face brightened as he realized his idea was actually going to be used. "As soon as someone volunteers to go into WICKED and find them." The man's face dropped, and chaos erupted around the table. Most people were yelling and screaming the same thing: how could we not know where they are. There were people who were panicking, realizing that an army of bloodthirsty cranks could run out and attack them at any second.

Vince rose from his seat and cupped his hands around his mouth, "HEY," he bellowed across the table. "If we just sit here crying and sucking our thumbs, of course we're going to be attacked." The room had fallen silent as Vince delivered his speech. "Someone has to go in there, until then we have no idea what we're up against. I'm not going to force anyone to do something they don't want to, but those Cranks will eventually find a way out and attack us. We don't know how many there are exactly, but I promise you, there will be casualties." Thomas could feel Hadar shaking with fear. "Whoever does go down there won't be alone, and they'll have the best weapons we can offer. But someone has to volunteer."

Hadar was shaking more violently, and Thomas could hear him talking to himself. He looked up and saw that Hadar's eyes were shut firmly "Hadar, are you alright?" Thomas asked worriedly. Hadar's eyes snapped open, and he stopped talking to himself. But he was still shaking.

"Yeah, I… I'm fine, just a little scared is all," He said.

"Well you're not alone there. I actually think you handled the news the best out of everyone here," Thomas said. Hadar nodded, and looked forward again. The people in the tent began to walk out, leaving Teresa, Thomas, Hadar and Vince alone.

"Vince, do you actually think someone will volunteer?" Teresa asked.

"No," he replied. "I was actually hoping you and Thomas would go down there."

"Even though Thomas is in a wheel chair? And I won't be going anywhere until he's better."

"Thomas' foot will be fine in a couple of days," Vince stated. "The doctors injected him with a serum that speeds up the metabolism, allowing him to heal much faster. They objected at first, since we only have three or four vials left. But I told them Thomas was important, more than they could imagine." Thomas was speechless. He looked at his foot, knowing that he'd be walking again in a couple of days.

Teresa was speechless as well, "How come, even with the Swipe removed, I don't remember anything like that?"

"Because if WICKED got hold of it, there's no telling what sort of tests they would conduct. The abuse they would unleash on people if they knew that the patients would be healed in just days." Teresa understood, knowing full well the kind of experiments they did to people.

Thomas had stopped gaping at his foot and had turned to Vince, "I'll do it once my foot is healed. I've got someone in there that I need to find." His face had become hard, and anger flashed in his eyes. Teresa put her arm around Thomas, agreeing with him. Hadar looked at the two of them and nodded. The three of them would go into WICKED and find the Cranks.

Vince smiled, and extended his hand to Thomas, "You're doing a very brave thing here. If you come back, I promise that we'll find your friends." Thomas nodded and turned his wheel chair around.

"Oh, one more thing," Vince shouted. They all turned back and looked at him. "They're different to the other groups we've seen. They have a leader of sorts. We identified him when we hacked into WICKED's security cameras." He pulled a slip of paper out of his coat and handed it to Thomas. "It's Assistant Director Janson."


	4. Into the Dark

**Hey guys, I know I said that this would have more action n it, and it does, it's just that the next one will have more. Also, someone asked me how to pronounce 'Hadar', it's like Darth Vader, except without Darth and Vader's with a H. And no, I didn't get the name that way, Hadar is the name of a star. Anyway, as always, i hope you enjoy this chapter, and please tell me of any mistakes I made. Thank you :)**

Thomas took the picture and stared at it for a long time. Even after Teresa, Hadar and Vince had left, Thomas was still standing there. He was shaking again, and his skin had turned to snow. Fire blazed across his features, every ounce of his being was filled with raw hatred. _Ratman _he thought. The word ran through his head a million times a second. Gunshots interrupted his brooding and he heard screams, terror reverberating through the air.

"Thomas, help!" Teresa screamed. He limped out of the tent and ran as fast as he could to where Teresa was squatting behind a tower of boxes.

"Teresa! What happened?" He asked her.

She held her finger up to her mouth and whispered to him, "Cranks. A lot of them. They over-ran the west side of the camp and are moving further in."

"How did we not see them? They can't have just popped out of thin air."

"Vince thinks that they came around the building, catching the guards unaware."

"Where's Vince?" Thomas' steel voice demanded.

"Around there," She replied, pointing towards WICKED were a bunch of the Right Arm were fending of a dozen Cranks. She held out a silver pistol, nudging it into Thomas' hands. "You're gonna need that if you're going over there." Thomas nodded and stood up. He opened fired on the Cranks, who immediately turned and charged him. Thomas kept on shooting until he was empty. Nevertheless, he kept shooting blanks at the unfazed Cranks. Then, pop, _fizzle_. The smell of burnt flesh swept through the air and Thomas emptied his breakfast onto the ground. The blackened Cranks were silenced by a couple of bullets and Vince strode up to Thomas.

"Lucky we were there huh? Otherwise you'd be as dead as them poor buggers," He said, poking a dead Crank with his toe. "So what are you doing out here? Should be to the infirmary with ya, till you're ready for the mission."

"I heard screaming, and gunshots. I was worried someone was hurt," Thomas said.

"Well, this is, technically, a war camp. Screams and guns aren't unusual. And you can be sure that someone's hurt, but that'll be taken care of. Nothing you need to worry about," he smiled, his yellow teeth looking golden in the moonlight. "Now of ya hop. Go find Hadar and he'll take care of ya." Vince ran off, inspecting the damage done.

Thomas went walked back to Teresa. "Gotta go to the hospital," he said.

"Wait, what happened? What did Vince say?" Teresa asked him.

"Nothing, told me I shouldn't worry about war stuff since this is a war camp," he grinned and shrugged his shoulders. Teresa fell in step next to Thomas.

"I wouldn't call it a war camp, more like a hostile takeover, but yeah, Vince pretty much summed it up." She slipped her hand into his and slid her fingers between his. "You're okay though, so that's good."

Thomas pulled his hand away and walked a little faster. Teresa stopped and stared after him. Her face dropped and she walked back to the camp, defeated.

Thomas continued back to the Commander's Tent, hoping to find Hadar there. He walked in, casting his eyes around, "Hadar? You there?" he yelled. No one replied so he walked back out. He continued around the camp in a similar manner, crying out Hadar's name every now and then. Eventually he found Hadar hiding behind a stack of guns.

"A-are they gone? The Cranks, are they gone?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yeah man," Thomas nodded. "Every last one of 'em." Hadar smiled and stood up, brushing the dirt and dust of his clothes. He stretched and let out a huge sigh of relief.

"You wouldn't believe how long I've been hiding their," he laughed.

"About as long as I've been looking for you I'd guess," Thomas joked. Both of them smiled and Hadar looped his arm under Thomas' arms. Thomas nodded his appreciation.

"So where are we off to now?" Hadar asked.

"Grand Master Vince thinks that I should go back to the Infirmary until my foot's better and we go after Ratman," Thomas said.

"Who?"

"Janson, until we go after Janson I mean."

"Riiight, well that sucks, it'll be boring as all hell as well. But we can't disobey the Admiral," Hadar grinned. Thomas found himself liking Hadar more and more. The boy was a little younger than him, but easily looked older. Hadar helped Thomas along, his muscular figure easily holding Thomas up. He blew his black hair out of face and they continued towards the Infirmary.

As Thomas and Hadar walked in, they were immediately swamped with nurses.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Who are you?"

"What's the injury?"

Each one was holding a wooden notebook that they were scribbling furiously in. One of the nurses grabbed Thomas' arm and led him towards the only free bed.

"Will you be alright here while I get the doctor?" She asked him.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, thanks," Thomas replied. She hurried off, sweeping through a pair of double doors.

Every where Thomas looked, there were injured people. Old wounds, new wounds. Fresh blood, old blood. Screaming and crying, sleeping and lying. Everyone was either on painkillers, dead or dying. Thomas realized that the only people there were seriously injured people. People who needed surgery, or amputation. He began to feel out-of-place. The annoyed glances the nurses began to give him didn't make him feel any better.

"And what do we have here?" An old doctor asked. Thomas' mouth opened but sound was refused an exit. "Well come on boy, I haven't got all day!"

"V-Vince sent me here. He said I should wait here until… my… foot's…," He stopped. The doctor was staring daggers at him, his annoyance clear.

"Does it look like we have room for people to just lie about as they please?" The doctor shouted. "Honestly, we're busy enough as it is, we don't need a couple of sleepers taking up room. Now get out or you will be forced."

Hadar helped Thomas out of the building, "Well that was just straight up rude, kicking us out," Hadar said angrily. "Obviously we wouldn't have been there if it wasn't necessary…" Hadar quietened down, but still muttering curses under his breath.

"Come on," Thomas shrugged. "It doesn't matter; I'll just stay in a different tent."

"Oh, you can crash at my tent," Hadar announced excitedly. "It's the best: out-of-the-way, quiet, big – sort of – and dark. It'll be easy getting some sleep."

"Sounds great, let's go."

They arrived at Hadar's tent just as the sun was rising. The golden light flooded through the camp, filling every hole and crevice. The cold night air was pushed aside as the warm gaze of the sun looked upon the Right Arm.

"I guess there's no point in sleeping now, huh?" Thomas said.

Hadar nodded and patted Thomas' back, "No harm in trying though. You look like you need it."

Thomas walked inside the tent, and found that it was nothing like Hadar described.

Machinery whirred and buzzed and clicked all around him, making the tent sound like a rainforest, full of insects and animals. And for every object that made a sound, there were two more that gave out enough light to challenge even the sun. And all of that was bundled into a space no larger than a big bathtub.

"Looks, uh, .homey," Thomas cringed.

"I like it. It reminds me of home," Hadar said. Thomas laid down in the middle of the tent and closed his eyes, knowing that sleep wouldn't come easily.

"I'll see you tonight then," Hadar said. Thomas grunted and rolled onto his side, beginning the worst sleep he'd had since those nights in the Glade.

* * *

Thomas woke up to find Teresa's face hovering inches above his.

"Thank god, we were beginning to think you were never going to wake up," she said, relieved. Thomas pushed himself upright and saw that Hadar and Vince were in the tiny tent as well. They were all staring at Thomas anxiously.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" Thomas yawned. He rolled his neck and stretched his legs out, flexing his fingers while doing so.

"How are you feeling?" Vince asked cautiously.

"Fine, in fact, I'm better than fine," Thomas said excitedly. "Feels like… feels like I could run a couple hundred laps of the camp."

Vince smiled and held out a hand, "Great, so you're ready for the mission?"

Thomas took the outstretched hand and pulled himself to his feet. "I thought the mission wasn't for another couple of days?" Vince's, Teresa's, and Hadar's mouths fell open, air rushing out like a scared animal. They all looked at each other, bewildered, then back to Thomas.

Teresa was the first to speak, "the mission was in a couple of days, a couple of days ago," she said.

Now it was Thomas' turn to gasp, "S-so I've been asleep for more than a day?"

"Two days to be exact," Vince told him. "The mission is tonight. Preparations are being made as we speak." Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, confusion raging inside him. He grabbed his discarded shirt and put it back on, its softness and warmness comforting and calming him. He walked out of the tent, stretching again once the sunlight hit him. He saw people rushing about. Everyone had a job to do, and they did it, regardless of what they thought. Thomas knew that he'd have to continue on with the mission, even though he'd had next-to-no training and next-to-no clue of what he'd be running into. The fabric of the tent rustled behind him and he spun around.

"We're going into WICKED tonight?" he asked Vince.

"Correct."

"To face a potential army of Cranks?"

"Yes."

"And whether we'll come out alive is unknown?"

"Unfortunately." Thomas spun this all over in his mind. Everything seemed against him, but this was something he had to do.

"Thomas, it's gonna be ok," Teresa said. "You're not going in alone, me and Hadar will be with you the entire time." At those words Hadar turned a deathly white, and sweat beaded his skin.

"Y-yeah man, don't worry," Hadar looked as if he was going to be sick. He was shaking like a scared dog and his eyes had become distant and preoccupied.

Thomas waved his hand in front of Hadar's face, "What's wrong with him?" he asked Vince.

Vince waved the question away, "He has issues with Cranks. Scared out of wits by them." Thomas shook Hadar, who still wouldn't react. It was only when Teresa slapped him that he came back from memory lane to the real world.

"Hey!" He cried, rubbing his cheek, "that hurt. Teresa shook her head and followed a group of people running towards WICKED.

"What was that all about?" Hadar wondered.

"Don't even know," Thomas said. "She gets weird sometimes." They looked at each other and shrugged.

"Hey," Hadar suddenly spoke up. "Your foot!" Only then did Thomas realize what was different. It wasn't the three-day long sleep. It wasn't the apprehension at going into the bowels of Crank paradise. It wasn't guilt at having pushed away Teresa that night. It was his foot! He rolled it around, tapped it on the ground, and then kicked a steel box, just to make sure that it was working alright.

"Holy shit…" Thomas whispered. "It's like brand new, not even a scar, or a mark or anything." Both Thomas and Hadar gazed at his foot.

"Wanna test it out?" Hadar grinned. Thomas nodded excitedly. "Let's have a race. First to the Commander's Tent. Ready…set…GO!" He screamed. Both of the boys took of. Thomas let Hadar guide the way to the finish line, since he had no idea where he was going. But once the dirty grey-brown tent came into view, Thomas started to push forward, over-taking Hadar easily. He ran through the tent's flap, screaming wildly. He threw his hands up and ran round the tent three times before collapsing on the floor. He saw Hadar standing above him, gesturing wildly for him to shut-up.

"What's wrong Hadar? Can't lose with a little dignity?" He laughed.

"Will you shut-up!" A coarse voice shouted at Thomas. "This is a commander's meeting, and only the Right Arm's official are allowed inside."

Thomas got up off the floor and hung his head, his cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

On his way out he heard the same voice, "Honestly, if that's the boy we're sanding into WICKED, we're doomed."

Thomas and Hadar found Teresa waiting outside the tent.

"Having fun, acting like three-year olds?" She asked contemptuously. "We have more urgent matters than who won your stupid race!"

"You saw that?" Hadar asked. "Who do you think won?"

Teresa glowered at him, "It doesn't matter who won, what matters is the fact that the Cranks attacked again."

"What! Where? When?" Thomas said, each word barely coming out before the other followed.

"About ten minutes ago, same place. This attack was more organized." She shuddered. "Vince is getting worried. We have no idea how many Cranks there are. They could keep attacking until they overrun us."

Thomas felt shame boil up inside of him for the second time that day. "Surely we have better defences, not to mention soldiers and weapons."

"Barely anyone here is a soldier, defences were being rebuilt from the first attack, and the best weapons we have are pistols. We're not exactly the crowd favourite." Teresa gritted her teeth and stood up straight, making an effort to look more intimidating. "You and Hadar better pull yourselves together, 'cause in two hours we're taking those Cranks head on. In two hours, we decide whether the Right Arm's takeover lives, or dies." She turned on her hill and strode away, anger and authority battling for the air surrounding her. Thomas and Hadar stood there, shocked at Teresa's abrupt outburst.

Hadar looked at Thomas, "What do we do now?"

Thomas looked back at Hadar, their eyes met, "Prepare for war."

* * *

Thomas, Teresa and Hadar stood in front of WICKED's front door. Animalistic cries found their way down the halls and into their ears. Hadar had taken on a sickly green colour, while Thomas was sweating like a marathon runner. The most composed out of the three was Teresa, who stood silently. Holding a gun in one hand and a large knife in the other, she looked like the very picture of death and fear. Vince stood behind them, a hand on Thomas' and Teresa's shoulder.

"Are you ready for this?" He asked them. Both of them nodded, but Hadar just stood there, lost in his memories again.

WICKED's lights flickered on, filling the corridors with white brilliance. Blood stains had dried on the floor and walls, and several bodies lay at the end of the hall. Water dripped from the ceiling and an entire section of the roof had crashed to the floor, blocking one corner.

"A couple of the halls have been destroyed by our bombs, and you'll see a couple of bodies, some ours, some theirs. The Cranks are in the deeper levels, below even the maze. It should be pretty straightforward getting down there," Vince explained. "Good luck guys, and be careful."

The three teens walked into WICKED, and the door slammed behind them. Hadar let out a loud _gulp_ and wiped the sweat of his forehead.

"Come on," Teresa said. "Just down here."

Thomas and Hadar followed her to the left, and then the right, then two more lefts, until they came to a large circular room filled with debris. Parts of the walls and ceilings were littered over the floor. Broken chairs were scattered everywhere and a huge wooden table was split right down the middle.

"The Right Arm really made a mess didn't they," Hadar said, awed.

"The destruction of WICKED was necessary to shut it down," Teresa explained. "That was, until, Thomas explained to Vince about the money they could get from WICKED tech. If it wasn't for that, we could just bring the whole building down on top of the Cranks."

Teresa grabbed one edge of the table and started pulling it away. She looked at Thomas and Hadar and glared at them until they helped her.

"Why are we moving the table? We could just walk around it," Hadar said.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Teresa sneered. "There's a trapdoor under this table that leads to the emergency escape tunnels. I'm pretty sure that that's where the Cranks have gone." Hadar looked hurt as he searched the floor for the trapdoor's handle.

Thomas pulled Teresa out of the room and looked at her angrily. "What's wrong with you? I get it okay, you're angry at me. But don't take it out on Hadar; he's trying to help us even though every instinct is telling him to run."

Teresa blew her hair aside, "I'm just trying to get things done so that we can go help the other Gladers. Is that such a bad thing?"

"When you're putting people down, yes, it is. Just try to be nicer, then, after we're done, we can sort out our problems."

Teresa looked as if she was going to say something, but closed her mouth and just nodded.

"Hey guys!" Hadar yelled. "I found it, let's go."

The three of them crawled down the narrow hole, blackness filling their vision until even the light from above disappeared. Screams and roars bounced up the passage, making it seem as if the dark was swirling with unknown terror. A particularly terrifying wail drifted up to them, and Hadar let out a scream to equal those that had come before it.

When the reached the end of the tunnel, they let go of the ladder and plummeted into icy cold water. It froze Thomas to his core and he quickly swam to the edge of the pool, dragging himself out before he turned into an ice-cube. The lights came on and highlighted the room in amazing vividness. Teresa whistled to the boys and they plodded over to her, rubbing their arms furiously.

"Come on, it's not much further now."

They walked down dark tunnels for ages. Thomas tensed at every sound and he could hear Hadar breathing loudly and quickly. Teresa lead the way calmly, holding the gun in front of her with both hands. At one point a bat flitted across her face and she let out a succession of ear-splitting shots. Rage filled cries echoed down the tunnel, but it quickly fell back to silence.

They saw light shining through the entrance of one room. They crowded around the door to hear hushed voices, people whispering urgently. Teresa placed he hand on the handle and turned it quietly. She opened the door and burst into the room screaming, with Thomas following suit. What they found was a couple of people who were huddled under the table. Before Teresa or Thomas had a chance to say anything, the scared people ran towards them, yelling loudly and wildly. They bolted straight past the pair and out into the corridor, where they sprinted into the darkness and disappeared.

"What was that all about?" Thomas asked no-one.

"Heard the Cranks I guess, so they came in here and hid. Must've thought we were going to kill them."

"Yeah, you're pretty scary with that gun."

She held it up to her mouth and blew on it, then smiled. Thomas thought that the old Teresa was coming back, but within seconds the smile had faded and she was all business again.

They walked back outside to find that Hadar had disappeared.

"Hadar!" Thomas cried into the nothingness. "HADAR!"

"Thomas, we've got to keep moving."

"No, not without Hadar."

Then they heard some soft sniffing behind the door. They swung it shut and found Hadar sitting there, his eyes red and his cheeks puffy.

"You good to go on?" Thomas asked him.

Hadar nodded and got to his feet, "Sorry, it's just that Cranks scare me." He tapped his temple, "Bad memories."

Thomas and Teresa nodded their understanding, and they continued down the tunnel. The screams had started again, and Teresa had adopted her gun stance again, holding it straight out in front of her.

They came to the end of the tunnel and found several bodies lying in puddles of blood. They were burnt and scarred, and bloody footsteps continued down the tunnel, towards the screams.

"That way?" Teresa asked, pointing her gun to the left.

Thomas nodded, "that way."


	5. Janson's Revival

**Like I promised, this chapter has more action than the others. There's a bit of blood and stuff so if you don't like that you probably shouldn't read this, but i guess if you were like that you wouldn't have read TMR in the first place. As always, please review and tell me of anything I did wrong or any errors. Thanks and enjoy :) **

They followed the footsteps until they ran out, with the tunnel still continuing into an empty void. The screams had gotten steadily louder, and now dull thuds and thumps echoed down the walls. Thomas and Hadar had huddled behind Teresa. Hadar was shaking and trembling, jumping every time a fresh round of screams was shot at them. Teresa walked confidently in front of the boys, holding her gun in front of her and her knife tucked firmly in its buckle. She swept the gun left to right every couple of minutes, her cold eyes following the same path as the nozzle, looking for a single sign to let loose a torrent of her rage in the form of life-ending metal.

"Teresa, do you know where we're going," Thomas whispered.

She shook her head and walked forward, sweeping her gun across the tunnel again. Then there was a deafening crash, and screams caught between terror and ecstasy.

Three Cranks ran out of the darkness, one of them loping towards them on hands and feet, the same way a wolf would. Each one was covered with scabs and scars, cuts and scratches. Hair had been ripped from their ragged heads and the tattered remains of their clothes were dragging on the floor behind them. Horrific, animalistic cries clawed their way from the Cranks mouths and shook the very air. Teresa swung her gun back round and emptied it into the oncoming beasts. Two went down under her steel barrage and hit the floor with a wet, squelching _thud_. The third leapt over the dead, landing in front of Teresa and knocked the gun out of her hands. One hand tore through the air and slammed into Teresa's cheek while the other tore at her stomach. Teresa let out a cry and held one hand to her face, covering the already bruised cheek. She grabbed her knife from her belt and swiped at the Crank. It stepped back, easily dodging the blade and knocked the knife from her fingers as well. Teresa stood there, defenseless and broken; shaking with fear and desperation. The Crank raised its hands, preparing the final blow, when a scream resounded down the tunnel. The Crank's hands stopped, and its head turned slightly. For a second it looked as if the Crank could understand the scream like it was a plain language. But it shook its head and mad, opaque eyes turned on Teresa. She lowered her hand and raised her head as she accepted her fate.

The shots sounded much louder when they hit the Crank. Blood splattered Teresa and the same wet _thud _that accompanied the other two's deaths joined this one. The Crank's head fell on the cement and a loud _crack_ cut through the air. Teresa slowly turned, her entire body shaking with fear. She saw Thomas holding the gun, smoke drifting from the nozzle and dissipating into the air. Hadar was curled in a ball on the ground, whispering urgently but quietly to himself. Thomas lowered the gun, eventually dropping it. He rushed towards Teresa, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight. Teresa stood in his embrace, not trusting herself to return the gesture.

"Teresa… I-I thought I'd lost you," Thomas said.

Teresa said nothing, but simply moved closer to Thomas, his warmth and safeness comforting her. Thomas held her tighter, and they stood like that for a while, a shuddering sob escaping Teresa's lips every couple of seconds. Eventually, Thomas let Teresa go, and she shakily picked up the gun and handed it to Thomas. Thomas took it and tucked it into his belt, doing the same with the knife. Teresa plodded over to the wall, laying down along it and falling into a shaky sleep. Thomas took it upon himself to bring Hadar back.

Thomas walked over to Hadar, who was still whispering to himself.

"They aren't real. Nothing is real. Only I am real. Only I am alive. They aren't alive. They can't hurt me. They can't do anything. They aren't real. Nothing is real. Only I am real…" He kept on repeating.

Thomas gently shook him. Hadar let out a small scream, jumped to his feet, and kicked Thomas. Hadar wasn't there anymore, this was a different person. The calm, fun-loving Hadar had disappeared; the angry, scared Hadar had chased him away. He kept trying to hit Thomas; each step brought another punch, another kick, crashing into Thomas like waves on a shore. Each wave fell with tremendous force, and sea spray was flung through the air, splattering onto cliffs and rocks. The waves crashed on top of Thomas, one after another, driving him to his knees. Hadar took Thomas' head and made him look into his eyes.

"Hadar," Thomas begged. "It's me, its Thomas. I'm not going to hurt you."

Only then did calm Hadar come back. Only then did the storm clouds fade away, replaced by the original wispy white, curling clouds. Hadar saw his red knuckles, Thomas kneeling before him, blood dripping from his forehead and lip.

"Shit, Thomas! I'm so sorry, oh my god, I knew this would happen. Thomas I'm so sorry, please believe me, I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry," Hadar kept saying frantically, tears sliding freely down his face. He helped Thomas to his feet and cleaned the blood off of him. Teresa had stumbled over, waking after she'd heard Hadar's worried apologizing, knowing that what she would see wouldn't be good. Thomas stepped back to Teresa and looked warily at Hadar. Hadar stood there with his hands held behind his back and his head hung low. After Thomas had looked him up and down, he stared Hadar in the eyes, looking for any remnants of the monster that had attacked him.

"Thomas, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I-" Thomas stopped him.

"I believe you, I can tell that you didn't mean it, but I think we deserve an explanation now." Thomas said. A fresh chorus of screams ran down the tunnel, making Teresa gasp and Hadar flinch. "Maybe when we get back though…"

Hadar nodded vigorously, and apologized several more times before Thomas stopped him for a second time. The misshapen trio continued down the tunnel again, each step more reluctant than the last. The three of them continued to their goal.

The three of them continued towards their fear.

* * *

The tunnel opened into a large cavern type area. It could have been bomb shelters that had never been used, or a storage room for WICKED's various machines and equipment. Whatever it was, it had transformed into hell.

Bodies lay everywhere, some looked normal, but others didn't look human anymore. Blood stains covered every surface, like a child had spilled paint. The charcoaled remains of something long dead were sitting in the corner and several other fires were still burning, flooding the cavern in fierce orange light. Three other tunnels led out of the room, each one swallowed by darkness as soon as the light couldn't reach it.

Screaming could still be heard, but now it came from everywhere. Low, guttural moans crawled from one path, while ear-splitting screams flew from the other. The third tunnel was silent, the foreboding quiet sitting there, daring them to see what its depths hid.

"Thomas, which way do we go?" Teresa asked.

"I don't know, the safest way seems to be that way," he said, pointing to the left. "But I think we're meant to go that way," he pointed to the tunnel directly ahead of them, the one that emitted screams of horrible happiness.

Teresa and Hadar exchanged fearful glances, both of them knowing the extent of the Cranks madness firsthand. Thomas began to walk forwards, casting his eyes wildly to all corners of the room, waiting, watching, fearing that something would jump out at them. Teresa and Hadar closely followed, both their heads looking down, their hands swinging limply by their sides. Thomas reached for the gun at his hip, but changed his mind and took the knife in his grasp. He held it so that the blade faced outwards, and if anything came close he'd be able to slam the knife into their neck.

They neared the tunnels entrance. The fire light had begun to dim, but their shadows still danced on the floor where they were free. The screaming took on a new tone, one that was full of delighted surprise. Thomas, Teresa and Hadar stepped into the tunnel, leaving the safety of the light behind. Now, they could only see a meter or two ahead of them, and even that was only lit by a dull grey light. Thomas gripped the knife forward and edged forward, further into the unknown.

"Thomas, do you know what's down here?" Hadar whispered.

"Not a clue, but I have a feeling we're gonna find out soon," Thomas replied.

Hadar left Teresa behind him and fell in step next to Thomas.

"How do you know we're not walking into a trap?" he asked.

"Because Cranks aren't smart enough to set traps, they just attack."

"But Vince said that these are different to the others. He said that they're organized. That mean's they'd be able to set traps doesn't it?"

Thomas thought for a bit, then shook his head, "just because they're organized, doesn't mean they're smart, they couldn't set a trap for us. Not in a tunnel like this, we'd be able to see it."

"Please, just be careful, I don't want to have to deal with more Cranks."

Thomas smiled at him and patted him on the back, "Don't worry Hadar, I won't let anything hurt you or Teresa," he promised.

Hadar stopped until Teresa caught up with him. He took her hand and they walked faster until they were next to Thomas. The silence between them went undisturbed, even the screaming had ceased. The smell of fear wafted through the air, making the air shimmer and shake as the three moved through it.

The tunnel came to an end abruptly, light suddenly blossomed in their eyes, blinding them. Thomas' knife clattered to the ground. The laughter and screaming started again, and Thomas, Hadar and Teresa were swept off their feet and dragged along the ground at an alarming pace. Thomas struggled as much as he could, twisting and kicking, scratching the ground for a handhold, yelling abuse into the passing air. Beside him he could hear Teresa and Hadar screaming, every morsel of their being filled with terror. Thomas was flung into the air and crashed down on someone's shoulder. The air was forced out of his lungs, and his hands and legs were pulled down so that he couldn't move. The laughter filled his ears and the rank stench of blood and pus invaded his nostrils. They kept running along, each stride jolted Thomas and knocked the air right back out of him. By the time they were dropped back on the ground, Thomas felt as if his lungs had collapsed on themselves.

"Hello Thomas," someone said, a foul odor washing over him. "Did we have a nice trip?"

Thomas rolled onto his stomach, not wanting to look at anything until his vision returned to him. As air filled his lungs, the black dots that swam before Thomas faded away. He tried to get up, but found that his arms and legs were tied together. He felt someone tugging at his belt, and before he could react felt the cold metal of a gun against his head.

"Thomas, you don't think that you could have really killed me, do you?" the voice asked.

Thomas' head was forced up until his eyes were level with a dead man. Janson stood there grinning, his face red and ragged, bleeding wounds covering his face. His hair had been ripped out and his clothes were all but gone, a thin white strip of cloth covering his crotch. Thomas spat and screamed abuse at him, cussing and swearing at the top of his lungs. Janson looked genuinely surprised as he backed away.

"Why Thomas, I thought you'd greet an old friend better than that."

"You were never a friend, Ratman," Thomas hissed.

Janson's face took on a murderous edge, "How many times have I told you," he whispered threateningly. "My name is Janson, Assistant Director Janson!"

Janson raised his hand and brought the butt of the gun down upon Thomas' head. Thomas crumpled forward and hit the ground face first. He rolled over and spat the dirt and blood out of his mouth. Teresa and Hadar watched with fascination as Thomas continued to stand up to Janson.

"Assistant Director? Not anymore, now that there's no WICKED to be Assistant Director of. Now you're just Janson. Now you're back to Ratman," Thomas said.

Janson's cry ripped through the air, and he brought the gun swinging into Thomas' cheek. Teresa and Hadar cried out, and Thomas fell to the floor again. But once again he got back onto his knees. Once again he showed his determination to defy Janson.

"No matter how hard you hit me, or how many times, I'm still going to get back up and insult you again, Ratman."

Janson screamed and held the gun to Thomas' head, his finger on the trigger.

"One more word and I swear to God I'll put a bullet in your head!" He threatened.

Thomas laughed and shook his head, "You wouldn't shoot me; you need me. You said so yourself. I'm the Final Candidate, me brain is valuable, precious. You can't risk damaging it. You're not so far Gone that you'd give up on the Cure."

Janson hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his eyes. He sighed pulled the gun away.

"You're right, we do need your brain," Janson admitted. "But we don't need hers." He rounded on Teresa and pulled the trigger.

Thomas and Hadar screamed. Janson was grinning, pleased with his work. Laughter and cheers echoed throughout the room, every Crank clapping and laughing, some were fighting. Janson giggled like a school girl.

"You'll do as I say, or I'll actually shoot her next time," he said.

Teresa lifted her head, tears running down her cheeks. She looked to her side and saw a puddle of blood where a dead Crank lay. Two other Cranks grabbed her wrists and dragged her out of sight. Teresa looked at Thomas, her eyes full of sadness, fear, and desperation. Thomas felt something stir inside of him, a boiling, seething mass of anger that sat like lead in his stomach. He pushed himself to his feet and stood before Janson. Janson stopped laughing and stared at Thomas.

"What are you going to do Thomas? Your hands are tied. Your legs are tied. You can't make a move without falling over," Janson said, his cold eyes flashing. "Right now, I am invincible."

Thomas looked around him. He saw the impossible number of Cranks that crowed in the room. He saw the blood-lust in their eyes, their hands curling into fists. He realized the odds he was up against, but the anger in his stomach was growing. He felt heat blossom through his chest and suddenly the odds didn't seem so bad. He set his eyes on Janson, his anger flashing in their depths.

"Come on Thomas," Janson leaned forward and whispered. "Hit me, punch me. Knock on my back. Take the gun and shoot me. You can do it."

Thomas saw the Cranks grinning and smiling at each other. The heat rose in his chest, intensified. Then, it exploded.

Thomas jumped forward and swung his paired hands at Janson. His knuckles smashed into Janson's nose, but Thomas didn't wait to see anymore. He tried to turn and run. But the ropes around his feet had other plans and held him were he stood. The Cranks surged forward, each one screaming a different sound. Janson got up and smiled, wiping the blood from his lip. He yelled a short, curt command and the Cranks stopped short. Janson strode forward and took Thomas' hands. He pushed up the sleeves and turned them up, so that Thomas' pulsing veins were showing. Janson smiled and held his hand out. The Cranks started laughing, and a girl came out of the darkness with a black box. Janson opened it and took out its contents.

The silver needle glinted in the white light, its point looked menacing. A purple fluid filled it, swishing around inside it. Janson's grip tightened around Thomas' wrist, keeping it firmly in place. Teresa started screaming, a sound that cut through the air and made everyone in the room grimace.

"No! Janson you can't do this! We don't know the full extent of it. It's still only a prototype," She shouted. "It could kill him for all we know!"

"I guess we'll find out soon enough," Janson grinned.

He flicked the top of the needle then pushed the point through Thomas' skin easily. Thomas felt the pinprick where it entered and begun to squirm. He tried to get out Janson's grasp, but there was no way Janson was letting go.

Janson smiled wickedly and pushed down on the needle, injecting Thomas with whatever foul substance that it contained.

"Now you'll know how it feels to hurt, to be in pain," Janson said. "Now, you'll know how it feels to die."

Icy cold streaked through Thomas' body, filling every inch of him with ice. His skin paled and his breath begun to plume as if he was in the arctic. He tried to move, but his body had frozen solid. The lights begun to dim and Thomas could feel his heartbeat slow. He could Teresa screaming distantly, but it was nothing more than a whisper to Thomas. Darkness swooped in and enveloped him. Then the pain started; the kind of pain that couldn't be described. Thomas let out one last scream before he succumbed to the shadows.


	6. The Sleep

Thomas had entered a different realm now. At first it seemed like it would be the type of place he could stay, forever if need be. But soon enough he could pick out the subtle mistakes; the clouds were wrong, and the ground was too smooth. He could smell the decay in the air, and the sounds of battle raged in the distance; the clanging of metal against metal, shields clanging against helmets, steel ripping through skin.

Thomas walked through the streets of what looked like an abandoned town, strangely uninterested in his surroundings. As he walked, the war sounds became louder, and soon it was like the sounds were being blasted through speakers that rested on every wall and rooftop. He discovered eyes peering through the closed blinds of houses: grey, dull eyes that disappeared as soon as they appeared.

That rancid odor of the wind flew through the street again, picking up dust and dirt as it went. The clouds that were right; but wrong, hung in the sky, like props in a bad movie. The even ground stretched far into he distance, leaving Thomas to wonder were he was.

He walked around the town for what felt like hours. His limbs grew sore and heavy and his eyelids started to droop. He yawned and decided to knock on one of the houses doors, thinking that he'd be able to find somewhere to sleep.

He walked up the steps to an old-looking house; with brown, untrimmed lawn and red paint peeling from the walls. He knocked on the dilapidated door, which was barely holding itself together. Eyes peeped through the blinds and someone let out a small shriek. The door flew open, and Thomas found himself facing a middle-aged woman. Her red hair was wild and frizzy, and she was barely clothed. Thomas turned down his gaze and mumbled something about needing somewhere to stay for the night.

The woman took his hand and kissed it, like a prince would to a princess. Thomas gently pulled his hand away and walked back down the steps. The woman trotted along behind him, her eyes wide and jaw open, like she'd never seen the town she lived in. Thomas kept casting his gaze backwards, watching her, suspecting that the Flare had taken root in her. She was laughing, then crying; smiling, then scowling. She was flashing through every human emotion possible in mere seconds.

Thomas ignored her and kept knocking on doors, but every house was deserted, and the grey eyes had disappeared. Thomas stopped walking and faced the woman.

"Do you know where we are?" He asked her.

The woman shrugged and kept looking around.

"Do you know where everyone else is?"

Again, the woman shrugged.

"Do you know why there is no-one in this town except for you and me?" Thomas yelled.

The woman stopped looking around and focused on Thomas. In milliseconds, her face had transformed: confusion and awe had turned to anger and hurt. Then she started screaming. Her cries echoed through the streets, rising above the sounds of battle. Her eyes had grown bigger and she was scratching at their sockets.

Thomas pulled her hands away, for which she replied with a vicious snarl and spat on him. She moved away and she kept clawing at her growing eyes. Thomas blocked his ears and turned his back on her, widening the gap between them. Her eyes were filled with red veins, and every scratch ripped another one of them off. Thomas heard a tremendous popping sound and he was thrown to the ground. All around him lay shards of bone and muscle. He jumped to his feet and looked at what remained of the woman.

Her head was gone. The body of a near-naked woman stood in the middle of a mess of bone and blood. Her hands still scratched at the empty space where her eyes would be before they too exploded. Her body burst apart one limb at a time, until there was nothing left of her. Then her scattered remains shrivelled up and turned to dust before floating away in the wind. Thomas realized what had made the wind stink.

Thomas ran to the nearest house, hoping to find some kind of life inside it. He put his hand on a white door and pushed, and the door came away. Just like the rest of the house.

All around Thomas, the houses were turning to dust, like the woman did. They succumbed to a white death before floating away. Thomas spun round and round while his head tried to comprehend the uncountable impossibilities that surrounded him.

When all the houses were gone, the dust swooped in again, and the sounds of war were realized.

All around Thomas were soldiers and swords. Horses reared and steel plates clanged around him as he dodged and ducked out of the way slices and stabs. He jumped over a low swing only to be smashed in the face by a club, and then a sword dug into his side, and then a shield slammed into his back and he was shoved to the ground.

His broken face hit the dirt and he could feel the warm wetness of blood seeping out of his side. He spat into the dirt and tried to get back to his feet. But the tempered point of a spear drove through Thomas' back and pinned him to the ground. The sounds of battle fled from the darkness that closed in on Thomas and the world around him faded in the same way as the houses. Soon Thomas found himself in a sea of white, and then the whiteness turned to dust and blew away on a non-existent wind. He was lying in an empty space; a void.

Then, Thomas died.

* * *

He woke up again in a different world. Heat struck him first, then the sting of hot ash on his skin. Crackling and snapping filled the air, along with the cries of tortured and scared animals. All around Thomas, fires burnt. He could feel the hair on his skin shriveling up and turning to ashes. Giant trees were blazing, their flames reaching thousands of feet into the air, the sparks spiraling even higher. Thomas started running, his legs moving automatically as he sprinted from the heat.

The fire petered out and the burning air that filled Thomas' lungs was replaced with clean oxygen. Grass grew under his feet and the trees here remained healthy and green. But there were animals.

The animals here were different to the normal world, which Thomas now knew he wasn't in. One of the creatures, a snake-thing with wings sprouting from it's back. The snake looked at him and hissed, spittle being flung from its mouth. When the saliva hit the grass, it imitated the snake and burnt into the ground. Thomas held out his hands and slowly backed away. The snake spread its wings and leapt at Thomas. Its fangs flicked out from their sockets and sunk into Thomas' neck, injecting him with their venom. Instantly, Thomas could feel his insides burning. Like the fire from the forest raged inside his stomach, Thomas howled and ripped his shirt off, scratching madly at his skin. Acid ran through his veins, turning his insides to mush. He could feel his organs dissolving and soon blood was oozing out of his pores. He fell to the ground as his body was reduced to a puddle of liquid bones and blood.

Then, Thomas died.

* * *

Thomas woke up in the dark. His senses were void of any feeling: he couldn't see, smell, hear, taste or feel anything. The laughing filled Thomas' head, and bright lights shone in his eyes.

"Hey Tommy-boy, you have fun in the Sleep?"

A shadow fell over Thomas, and a fetid stench washed over him.

"I've been told that when you go into the Sleep, you see you're worst fears. Is that true?"

Thomas focused his eyes on the figure leaning over him. Janson was holding Teresa's hair in one hand and his scarred face was plastered with a missive grin. Hadar was strapped to a metal chair, sleeping. He was squirming and shaking, crying out every couple of seconds before sinking back into his slumber.

"Answer me, Thomas!" Janson said.

Thomas turned back to Janson and felt the twisting and stretching of dried blood on his skin. He lifted up his shirt and found that his body was covered with blood and bruises, and a particularly nasty cut between his lungs. Janson held a mirror up to Thomas so that he could look himself in the eye. Thomas saw a purple face, cut and bloodied, out of place. He gingerly touched his face and pulled his hand back. His skin was alive with pain, fire blazing beneath his flesh. He found that he couldn't speak, but he could control his face enough so that his anger was clearly visible.

"Thomas, are you alright? It doesn't hurt too badly, does it?" Teresa asked.

Janson yanked Teresa's hair and she fell silent.

"You'll talk when I say you can!" He growled. "How did it feel to die Thomas?"

Thomas scowled at him, baring his teeth like an animal. He tried to get to his feet, but Janson planted his foot on his stomach and drove him back to the ground. A couple of sniggers crawled out of the corners and Thomas found that he was still surrounded by Cranks. They all looked considerably worse than when he'd slipped into the Sleep, but Janson looked like he hadn't changed a bit, but then again, the Flare only rages within your mind.

"Thomas! You will answer me, or I'll kill her," Janson pulled out a gun and pressed it against Teresa's head. This time, he wouldn't miss.

Thomas found his voice, and as it scratched its way up his throat, he was flooded with the right words to say.

"How did it feel to die? You'll know soon Janson, because when this day ends, so will you. You will fall, just like humanity has, just like the brain falls victim to the Flare. There is no Cure; there is no end to our suffering. The only hope for humans now is the Immunes in the Paradise," Thomas said between gritted teeth. "Gally, Minho, Brenda, Jorge, they're the ones that'll save mankind. Not your Cure, not me, not Teresa or Hadar. The Immunes."

Janson looked like he was about to explode. His face had turned an ugly shade of red, and his finger was twitching over the trigger. But instead of putting a bullet in Teresa's head, he turned the gun on Thomas.

"If there's no Cure, what's the point of keeping you alive, what's the point of keeping him…?" Janson trailed off as he pointed to Hadar.

Hadar's body was convulsing violently, and in his rage, Janson hadn't heard the screams. Hadar's body then turned red and his arms fell to his sides, limp and pale. Cuts appeared over his body, and a shadow hung over him.

"Mason! Delilah! What's happening?" Janson screamed.

Two Cranks ran out of the corners and approached Hadar cautiously. The man, Mason, tried to reach out and touch Hadar. When he did, Hadar opened his eyes and screamed, and the man stumbled backwards.

"Boss, it looks like his brain isn't coping with the Sleep. He's going Active!" The woman, Delilah, screamed.

"You said you stabilized it!" Janson yelled back. He dropped Teresa, who quickly huddled next to Thomas, and ran over to Hadar. "You said this wouldn't happen again."

"Teresa, what's going on with Hadar," Thomas whispered.

"After you went into the Sleep, Hadar tried to attack Janson as well. It was quite brave of him, but the Cranks caught him as well. He was put in the Sleep two days ago-"

"Two days? How long have I been in the Sleep?" Thomas said.

Teresa remained silent, but eventually she replied, "You've been asleep for almost a week Thomas."

Now it was Thomas' turn to be silent, his mouth gaping. He looked at his cuts, at his bruises. The terrified sounds of Janson as he tried to deal with Hadar seemed distant.

"Teresa, what is the Sleep," Thomas asked shakily.

"It's a toxin that was developed by – surprise, surprise, WICKED – that turns your dreams into reality," Teresa explained. "Simply, any time you get hurt in your dream, the wound will appear over you in real life. It won't be as extreme, but it'll still hurt."

Thomas ran his hand over the massive scab on his chest where he'd been stabbed by a spear. His body was covered with cuts and burns, and his insides felt hot and hurt.

"So what's happening to Hadar now?" He asked as he lowered his hand.

"When some people go into the Sleep, their brains are don't react like they're supposed to. Anything they do in the dream will be transferred to real life. That's why it's called being Active, because they're alive and active in both sides. The most dangerous part is that if the subject wakes up, without dying in the dream, they could be so overwhelmed that they're brain just completely shuts down."

Thomas took all this new information in, feeling like his own brain was overwhelmed. He looked Hadar, and saw that he was easily fighting the Cranks. Dodging every punch before returning with his, blocking kicks before delivering another. He was amazing, but he was tiring, and his eyes were beginning to show recognition.

"Teresa! We have to do something, I can't let Chuck die," Thomas yelled and ran off.

Teresa was left alone, in confusion. She kept repeating what Thomas said in her head. Suddenly, realization struck her, and she took off after Thomas.

Thomas pulled one of the Cranks away, throwing him to the ground. He swept the feet out from under another one and kept advancing towards Hadar. A Crank jumped in front of Thomas and punched him. Thomas reeled back, but hesitated only a second before flying at the Crank as a blur of arms and legs. The Crank fell back against this onslaught and Thomas ran straight over him. Gunshots echoed through the room and Thomas saw Janson holding the smoking gun. The Cranks backed away, and Thomas heard a dull _thud_, the kind that comes from a body hitting the ground. Thomas ran towards Janson and punched him in the face. Bones shattered under the blow and Janson howled. The gun clattered to the ground. Thomas dived for it. Janson raised his eyes to find the barrel of the gun pointing at him.

"You better hope you didn't hit anything," Thomas growled.

He walked backwards, the gun trained on Janson's head. His feet began to squelch as he walked, but he dared not to look down, should Janson try to attack him. The back of feet hit something hard, and he stepped over it. He looked down and saw Hadar huddled on the ground, shaking. Thomas flicked his gaze up and checked that Janson hadn't moved. He crouched down next to Hadar and shook him.

Hadar looked up, and smiled weakly when he saw Thomas' face. He held up his hand and Thomas saw that one of his fingers was now a stump, blood cascading down it.

Thomas was jerked back and Janson knocked the gun out of his hands.

"You're lucky I'm amused right now," Janson spat at him. "Otherwise I'd be in a mind to kill you. But shooting something has entertained me."

He dropped Thomas and kicked dirt in his face.

"Take the three of them, fix the broken one, and get me the maps," he ordered.

The Cranks rushed around madly. Thomas, Teresa and Hadar were herded into small room, after which the door was slammed and the lock dropped into place.

**So now I've revealed what Hadar had appeared to as me when i created him. If you're smart, you'll understand. But it's pretty simple. As always just tell me of anything that you liked or anything I did wrong. Thanks and enjoy :)**


	7. Kings and Princesses

**Hey guys, I'm so sorry I haven't updated for a couple of weeks. I had a school camp, which was awesome, but I didn't get time to post this chapter before I left. So here it is, still on a Sunday. I'm going to start trying to advance the story more, cause I realized that It actually is going nowhere at the moment. Anyway, please review and tell me of anything I did wrong. And I hope you enjoy it :)**

The room reeked of unwashed bodies and excrement. The three teenagers either stood, sat of huddled in different sides of the room. Though all of them avoided the corner that had been deemed the toilet corner.

Thomas' hair was stiff and crusty, and sweat oozed from his body like slime. His hands were dirty and black with dust. His face was covered in bruises from where he'd hit his head, and indentations from where the dirt had pressed into his face while sleeping. His clothes clung to his skin like infants and holes emptied any spaces that the dirt didn't cover.

Teresa sat in the corner, her eyes closed, breathing deeply. Ever since they'd been thrown into their cell, she'd sat like that for hours at a time. Hadar and Thomas often had competitions to see who could annoy her the most, though it often resulted in a bruised cheek for one or both of them.

Hadar, when he wasn't complaining about how the room smelt or how hard Teresa had punched him, would often bang on the door, or pace back and forth, spanning the room in a couple of hurried steps.

The three of them were sitting together for the first time since they'd been in the room, when the door was thrown open.

"Ai, get up! Boss wants you. Don't keep him waiting!" The Crank shouted.

Thomas, Hadar and Teresa looked up at his scarred face wearily. His crooked grin sent shivers up their spines. He left the door open and strolled away, whistling badly between his bleeding lips.

"Thomas, what do we do?" Teresa asked.

"I guess we go and see boss," Thomas said offhandedly.

They walked out of the room and found that the girl who had given Janson the syringe was waiting there.

"Boss says I'm to escort you to him," she muttered.

Thomas eyed her carefully, his eyes telling him on thing; his mind telling him another.

"Are you…" he began, but an elbow from Teresa cut him off. His eyes whipped towards her, and she subtly shook her head. Thomas nodded and they continued to walk in silence. As they walked, they took several more turns than they had when they'd been forced into the room. Thomas noticed the rooms that lined both sides off the corridors, the locks that held them closed: the blood that covered the windows.

They kept on walking, their footsteps echoed in the dim halls, the walls closing in with every step. Thomas could feel the darkness growing around him, swallowing the dust he stirred up behind him, consuming even the sound of their breathing. The girl led them down countless halls, past incalculable rooms, and Thomas could feel the hunger pains in side.

The walls spread outwards and lights illuminated the massive room. They saw the rows of Cranks, their heads bowed. They saw a chair, more like a throne though, where their Boss, their King, sat. And they saw Janson, sitting to the side of the Throne, his face fresh with cuts and purple bruises. He turned his head towards the group, and his eyes widened in surprise. He shook his head, and tried to cry out; tried to tell them something. But his master, his King threw his hand down and smacked Janson's face.

"Silence! You speak when I tell you to!" The King screamed.

Janson backed away, whimpering like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. The King smiled madly and looked back over his subjects.

The girl stepped forward, "Boss, I've got the prisoners."

"Which ones?" he snapped, without looking at her.

"The Final Candidate and his friends," she replied quickly, before backing into the shadows.

The King slowly, almost wearily, turned his head towards Thomas, Teresa, and Hadar. His eyes flashed and his vigour was renewed. He leaped from his seat and landed on one of the Cranks below him, crushing him. He ran wildly to the three of them, stopping only inches before them, so close that Thomas could see the pale scars that covered his face.

"Which one of you is the Final Candidate?" He asked.

They shifted uncomfortably, and backed away. But the King stepped forward, following them. He watched them with intense curiosity, studying them.

"Which one of you is the Final Candidate?" He repeated.

They remained silent again, their faces showing their discomfort.

The Kings face darkened, "Which one?" He growled.

Thomas looked up, and stepped forward, hiding his fear behind a mask of confidence. The King looked him up and down, muttering to himself.

"What do you want?" Thomas ventured to question.

The Kings head snapped up, eying Thomas. The corners of his mouth twitched, like he was amused, but then opened, and the King snarled at him. He bared his teeth and spat at Thomas.

"What do I want?" He asked, "I want your brain, your mind. You see, I want the Cure, and you're the only way that I can get it."

He smiled cruelly, his teeth yellow and black, his lips dry and chapped, skin peeling off of them.

"WICKED tried and failed to get the Cure. Why would a savage like you do any better," Thomas asked.

The King snarled and leapt at Thomas. The attack was so sudden that Thomas didn't have time to react. The King wrapped his hands around Thomas' throat and shoved him against the wall, dragging him up it until his feet dangled in the air.

"I'm… not…savage!" The King breathed, "I'm just… lost. My mind is gone. Can't you see! I'm Gone, but I'm sane, barely. I need the Cure before time runs out. I don't have long left."

The King started shaking violently, and his grip loosed around Thomas. Thomas took his chance and pushed the King away from him. He ran back to Teresa and Hadar. The King had stumbled to the floor, and now laid there, curled in a ball, his body convulsing aggressively. Janson ran forward and pulled the King away from the Cranks curious eyes. He dragged him behind the Throne and took his place upon it. A smile appeared and his face, but quickly winked away, replaced with mock concern.

"As the Boss has fallen sick again, the next person in charge will take his place until he's better. And seeing that that's me, I shall be Boss until he returns to us," Janson proclaimed.

The Cranks roared with admiration, their cries echoing off the ceiling. A couple of eyes looked towards the trio that had provoked the Kings illness, but they soon took up the cries of the Crank by their side.

Janson flashed a smile at Thomas, the anger, fear, and triumph shining at him like the sun. Thomas felt a ball of dread settle in his stomach.

The yelling and screaming and shouting soon rose to a new pitch, and the Cranks began to spiral out of control. Soon fights had erupted all over the room. And they weren't just one on one fights, groups of Cranks tussled for an imaginary trophy, tearing at skin, ripping flesh from bone with their teeth. It wasn't a surprise to see Cranks hobbling away, some trailing blood; others gushing with it.

Thomas felt someone tugging on his shirt, and then them jerking on it. He stumbled backwards and crashed into Teresa. Hadar pulled both of them up, then ran into the tunnels, like a scared rabbit. Teresa grabbed Thomas' hand and they raced after him, leaving the horror of the Cranks far behind them. But even though the Cranks didn't chase them, something else did. Above the thud of their own footsteps, Thomas could hear someone else's. He looked at Teresa, and she tightened her grip on him.

Lights flickered along the roof, and every time they passed one, Thomas would glance back. What he saw was a monster: a vivid red face; a grotesque mane whipping behind it; hands outstretched, reaching for him; and legs that hit the ground with all their might, hoping to catch their next meal. Thomas pushed his body to new heights, exerting himself. Soon he found that he was pulling Teresa along, making her trip, and stumble.

The monster was getting closer.

Thomas slowed down and let Teresa catch-up. But instead Teresa let go of his hand and sprinted away, gone like a bullet. Thomas could feel the little trickle of hope disappear, and he stopped running. He turned and faced the beast, deciding that he would fight it. But as it got nearer, Thomas felt like he could recognise it. In face, it almost looked like… _crash_. The monster ran straight into him. Within seconds Thomas was on his feet again, and was facing the monster. His hands were raised and curled into fists. But when the beast rose, he lowered them.

The beast was a girl. Tall, pale, blond, skinny, and familiar. It was the same girl who'd given Janson the syringe, and had escorted them to the King.

"Stop! Just wait a second!" she shouted frantically. She put her hands on her knees and bent over, breathing heavily. Her face was flushed and her arms were bleeding. Thomas stood there, confused. He moved hesitantly towards her, watching her carefully. She slowly stood up again, arching her back and stretching.

She seemed oblivious to Thomas' presence, but eventually focused on him.

"What's your game?" she asked him.

"What?" Thomas asked, obviously confused.

"Why are you down here?" She questioned. "You're not a Crank."

"By the way you're not tearing at my throat I'm guessing you're not either," Thomas retorted.

The girl looked him over the same way the King had. She walked around him, cautiously. She smiled and jumped at him, pulling him into her arms.

"Another Immune, finally!" she squealed.

Thomas tried to peel her from him, but found that he was hugging her back.

"What do you mean 'finally,'" He asked.

She let him go and blushed. "I mean finally, me and my dad have been down here ever since the Flare started. We've been waiting for someone else to come down and find us," she explained. "Then the Cranks came down and my dad got sick. Now he's one of them."

Thomas took all this in with genuine interest, mulling it over in his mind. He turned his back on her, seemingly in deep thought. When he turned back around, he found her sitting down, legs crossed, as if she was in school.

"You've lived down here for years?" he asked her.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"How long ago did your dad catch the Flare?"

"Couple days, a week maybe. It was when the rest of them came down."

Thomas thought it over again.

"Okay, come with me. I and two other Immunes came down to kill the Cranks, or seal them off from the surface at least. But there's more than we thought. We need all the help we can get."

"Did you say that there were two more Immunes down here?" She asked hopefully.

"Yeah, another boy, like me, and a girl," Thomas replied.

"Oh my god, this is great. Some normal, sane, disease-free people," she said excitedly. She ran ahead of Thomas, going the way that they'd been running, then stopped and realized that Thomas wasn't following her.

"Come on, what are you doing?" She complained.

"What are you doing? You have no idea where you're going," Thomas replied.

"The worst thing you can do is not start. At least I'm trying to find your friends."

Thomas shook his head and jogged after her. He stopped when he was in line and cast her an annoyed look.

"I'll lead from now on," he stated.

"Pfft, sure thing," she said sarcastically. "I've lived down here for years, I know it better than you do."

Thomas opened his mouth, but she held her finger to his lips.

"Just go where I go and you'll be fine."

She started running, taking a sharp left ten meters down the tunnel. Thomas took off after her. He saw her pale skin disappear around another corner and sprinted to catch up. He rounded that corner and saw her standing at the end of the tunnel, hands on her hips and grinning. She laughed and ran to the right, making it seem like she was taking turns at random. Thomas felt his breath coming short and stopped. He doubled over and was taking huge, ragged breaths. His face had gone a deep shade of red, and his eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets.

The girl appeared at his side. "What's wrong?" she asked, "You haven't caught the Flare, have you?"

Thomas shook his head and snorted. "The Flare doesn't work like that. If I'd caught the Flare, you'd know by now."

"What's wrong then?" she asked, annoyed now.

"Just got tired, that's all. Haven't eaten for a while," Thomas said.

The girl shook her head contemptuously and patted Thomas on the back.

"Well you've had your rest, so get up and keep running. Once we find your friends, we can go to the kitchen, okay?"

Thomas rose back to his full height, arching his back like a cat, before he started walking down the tunnel. The girl followed him, all the way to the end, where she fixated him with a rather questioning look.

"Which way do we go," she asked, moving closer to Thomas as she did.

Now it was Thomas' turn to question her. "I thought you said you knew this place better than anyone?"

"Yeah, well… I thought that since they're your friends you'd be able to find them easier, since you know 'em better."

Thomas was annoyed now. This girl wouldn't shut up and contradicted herself at every point. Nevertheless, he continued to the left, knowing that Teresa and Hadar wouldn't be the one's looking for him.

They passed endless rooms, countless doors, incalculable flickering lights. Yet Teresa and Hadar were nowhere to be seen. The dampness in the air seemed to leech the energy out of Thomas, made him sluggish and slow. Even while he was thinking, he could feel the life being drained from his him, puddling around his feet to be left behind. The girl, the other Immune, walked our or five paces in front of him, giggling and laughing every now and then. Those were the only sounds that pierced the air, the only signs that life still existed apart from Thomas.

The walls took on a different aspect now. Instead of the dull grey-brown that had been Thomas' world five minutes ago, now, the walls were colored. Vibrant reds and greens, blues and purples, oranges and yellows covered the walls. Stripes, swirls, circles, boxes: the colors came in an endless array of shapes and sizes.

"Hey… girl, where are we?" Thomas whispered.

The girl lifted her gaze and started clapping wildly, laughing loudly, running around with her fingers brushing the walls.

"This is my home. I didn't even realize we were coming here," she said excitedly. "Before the Cranks came down, this is where me and my dad lived. We were safe here. There's food, and water, and a shower and a toilet and a bed!"

A door slammed further down the tunnel. The girl screamed and Thomas pulled her behind him. He raised his clenched hands, ready to fight if need be. But all that walked out of the darkness was Hadar.

"Hadar! What are you –" Thomas was cut short.

"HADAR!" The girl screamed. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?"

"Sophia? Is that you?" Hadar asked.

Sophia slipped out from behind Thomas and sprinted towards Hadar. She jumped into the air and came crashing down upon Hadar. They tumbled to the ground laughing and smiling.

Among the laughter, Thomas could make out vague questions from both of them.

"How'd you get here?"

"How'd you get away from them?"

"Who's that other guy?"

"Where's your family?"

Eventually, they got up and dusted themselves off. The first thing Thomas noticed was that when Hadar was around Sophia, he was a lot less nervous.

"Hadar," Thomas said. "What's going on?"

Hadar shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Well, um, Thomas, this is Sophia."

"Well obviously, but how do you two know each other?"

"Um, before I joined the Right Arm, I lived in San Francisco. My neighbor there was Sophia. And she was pretty much my best friend."

"So why all this happy reunion stuff?"

"After the Flare got out, San Francisco was one of the first cities to crumble. Cranks swarmed it like bees, barely anyone got out alive."

Realization dawned on Thomas. This was why Hadar was terrified of Cranks. This was why he shy's away from the mention of his family.

"My dad sacrificed himself to get me, my mum, and my sister out of the city." Hadar continued. "But I couldn't protect them. The Cranks cornered us and I was the only one who could get away. My family died that day, and it was all my fault."


	8. Suprises and Tsunamis

**Hey guys, I know I've been a bit of a dick with my updating lately, since it's been like a month since I last uploaded a chapter, but I'm going to try to be more regular from now on, like in the early days of The Determined Alternatives. Speaking of the title, does anyone know how to change it? Someone told me that you can only change it if you delete the story and download it again and I'm not sure if that's true. One other thing, if you could go onto the Write4fun website and look up the story 'Forgotten Green' and tell me what you think that would be great, thanks :)**

**Also thanks for reading :)**

Thomas lay awake on the filthy mattress. The thread-bare blanket came up to his stomach and even then his feet were left cold and blue in the tunnel's night air. His pillow felt as if it were made of rocks, rocks made of knives. And the screams that echoed throughout off the walls would shake his bones and send shivers down his spine.

In the bed next to him, he could hear the boy with no family. Even though Thomas' family was probably dead, as well as Teresa's and Minho's and Brenda's, when Hadar had recounted the story of the end of his life, Thomas was left speechless. Everything had fallen in to place at that moment, and now Thomas knew that he had no choice but to protect Hadar, even if it killed him.

The smell of rot drifted into Thomas' nostrils and he jumped out of the bed, not able to take another minute in the discomfort that it offered. He walked down the abandoned tunnel. The brightly painted walls from before were now dull browns and dark greys, the life in their colors had faded with the neglected light that accompanied sleep. The wetness of the ground seeped through Thomas' socks and he could hear the _squelch _sound that every step cast into the emptiness. Sophia's squeals and giggles that she often made while sleeping could be heard again tonight. Thomas peeked into the room and found Sophia sitting up in her bed instead, her dirty night-clothes lazily hung over her shoulders. In her hands sat a green book, covered with brown splotches of dirt and mud. The face of the book was adorned with golden threads and silver beads that spiraled all over it.

Sophia turned over another page and giggled quietly. Her smile lit up the room like sunlight. Thomas couldn't help but feel happier that Sophia was with them now. He slipped out of the room, tip-toeing backwards. He was back in the dark tunnel now, the pressure of darkness beating on him. He swung around and began walking back to his bed when he accidentally sent a bucket of water spinning across the floor. Thomas heard a book snap shut and the creak of rusty springs as weight left a bed.

"Hello? Is someone out there?" Sophia called out into tunnel.

"Don't worry, it's just me," Thomas said, stepping out from the shadows.

Sophia released the breath she'd been holding. Her face flooded with color even in the pallid light and made her look more alive than Thomas had ever seen anyone. She gestured for him to follow her and strolled back into her room.

Thomas crossed her doorway and sat next to her on the bed. Sophia picked the book up and rested it on her legs. She flicked to the very middle of the book, where a strip of cloth kept place as a bookmark. Inside the book words could not be found, but pictures, two to a page with titles for each and every one them.

Sophia laid her hand on a picture. Between her fingers Thomas could see a man with a little girl on his shoulders.

"Is that your dad? Before he went past Gone?" he asks warily.

"Yeah," Sophia says softly. "This photo was from ages ago. I can't remember the last time we had a moment like this."

A tear trickled down her cheek, splashing as it hit the floor. Thomas began to feel uncomfortable. What was he meant to do? She was crying, but something told him that she didn't want to be consoled, which was weird. So he just nudged her with his shoulder, interrupting her thoughts. She looked up with wet eyes to find Thomas smiling at her.

"It's gonna be alright Sophia; we'll help your dad. We'll find a way," he proclaimed. She shook her head and sighed.

"Thomas, it's not that simple, he's different from the other Cranks. He's still fighting the disease even though it's already won. He's fighting a war that's already over."

"Yeah, but wars can't be fought by one man, whether they're over or not. He'll need help and he's gonna get some."

Sophia stared at him blankly, then shook her head and muttered something along the lines of, "royalty doesn't need help."

Thomas got up from the bed as Sophia laid down. She tucked the book under her arm and pulled the thread over her pale skin. Thomas switched of the pallid light and closed the door on his way out. He couldn't but feel the same sense of responsibility for Sophia as he did for Hadar.

He walked back to his room and curled up under his covers, anything but warm, and least of all safe.

Thomas woke up to screaming, like the terrifying cries of wolves. And a rumbling thunder that shook dust off the walls. His wreck of bed was a fading memory as he ran out the door. The howling and snarling fell silent as the pack of Cranks noticed the newcomer, staring holes through him, like a he was a student sitting at the wrong table during lunch. The Cranks parted and the King stepped out from the middle.

"How do like the tunnels Thomas?" he asked jovially,

"I've seen better," Thomas replied smartly.

The king chuckled and walked along the walls, tracing the bright patterns that decorated the walls with his fingers. The steady walk turned away and headed towards Thomas. The King stopped only inches before Thomas, so close that Thomas could smell the blood on his breath like alcohol. He knew that to run now would be a mistake, but he remained on the balls of his feet just in case.

"Thomas, it's actually very fortunate that it was you who should come down to WICKED's very own Crank Palace. You're the last ingredient after all: in the soup of the Cure you're the key ingredient."

"It's funny listening to you talk like your normal," Thomas joked. "Most Cranks are just batshit crazy."

The King's eyes widened a little. He smiled and bobbed his head happily, sniggering even.

"Yes, well, I am a little resistant to the Flare. It's not like I'm always – as you so elegantly put it – batshit crazy."

The King chuckled again and walked back to the walls, his fingers once again tracing the swirls and spirals the covered the rot and decay that the wall was.

"You know Thomas, if I try hard enough, I can almost remember these walls," he said absent-mindedly. His face screwed up tight, then he relaxed and his features turned pensive. He looked over at his Cranks, the blood-thirsty, illiterate, savage group of what-used-to-be-humans that came close to worshiping him. He was their King and they were his subjects, and just like any good king he must protect them. And just like that, quicker than the blink of an eye, the cloud of confusion left the Kings mind and he found his thoughts to be free.

"Thomas, why'd you come down here?" he asked.

"To shut the down the Cranks, stop them from terrorizing the Right Arm," Thomas said.

"What's in it for you? Why risk your life for nothing other than saving the lives of people who you don't know nor care about?" The King pressed on.

"Wrong," Thomas stated. "Once we finish this, we get to save the others. Find the Paradise and find the others and start the human race all over again."

The King fell silent, brooding eyes scanning the crowd. He left the wall and faced Thomas, letting there eyes meet for a second, and letting Thomas see the guilty plea inside his eyes.

"And how do you intend to stop us?" the pained look left his eyes and was filled by the familiar contempt and hatred.

Thomas opened his mouth, but twisting thoughts trapped the words that would've come out. Thomas realized that he hadn't thought of that. He, Hadar and Teresa had come all the way down here to fight the Cranks, without a plan and a hope of beating them.

The constricting thoughts slithered away and let Thomas' strangled voice talk freely.

"I guess that we were going to kill the leader and that after that everyone else would just… leave," he stammered.

"So you thought that you'd come down here, into my territory, and kill my people, and then kill me?" the King shouted, enraged at the very thought.

Strength ebbed away from Thomas and he found that his insides had turned cold. Ice filled his veins and the signals flying down his nerve pathways had stopped mid-flight.

"You think that we wouldn't hesitate the same destruction down upon you and your friends?" The King screamed louder.

Thomas' knees felt weak, and his arms hung like melted rubber. His stomach twisted and tumbled inside of him, and he found sweat beading on his brow.

"If you think that for one second you could have killed me, you could never have been more wrong," The King sneered. "Because if the Flare can't kill me, what makes you think a little boy could."

The Cranks roared and parted, letting Hadar and Sophia free from prison. They rushed towards Thomas like little kids. He glanced at them both briefly, making sure that they were okay. But for the most, Thomas' eyes remained fixed on the gathering army of Cranks.

"I wouldn't recommend staying around for much longer," The king threatened.

Thomas glowered at him, letting rage and fury channel themselves through him. The Cranks bristled and took a step forward as one. Step after step, they drew closer, cajoling and drooling as they vied for the first taste of the Final Candidate.

Thomas took Sophia's hand, and Hadar took her other. They stepped backwards, eyes fixed on the advancing Cranks. For every step they took, the Cranks took two more. The King laughed in the background, his mind clouded once again as the Flare stole it from him. The Cranks were relentless, moving faster, screaming louder, letting their inherent survival instincts as they looked for the warmth that Thomas, Sophia and Hadar's bodies offered beneath the skin.

Hadar's grip tightened, and Sophia's skin turned as cold as Thomas' own. They flashed each other quick looks which said no more than they needed to.

All three off them turned at that moment and fled.

Teresa stumbled blindly through the darkness, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. She raked her finger nails on the chipped walls. She had no idea where she was and she barely cared. She'd left Thomas behind, and Hadar. She couldn't believe her fear had gotten the better of her.

"Thomas!" she cried into the shadows. "Tom!"

Her blind walk continued, deeper into the abyss, forever trudging along. She hit walls, barriers, locked doors, but another human, or Crank, seemed to be a fading dream. She tried every door she found. Some opened, other didn't. And those that were open, Teresa had a feeling that whatever lurked within wasn't friendly.

The walls closed in around her as she walked, suffocating her, trapping her. Her mind began to play tricks on her, making the shadows move, the floor tilt, the ceiling groan. She could feel her pulse quicken and she started walking faster. She could feel a presence behind her and began too run. Wherever she went, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was behind her.

She could hear whatever beast had chased her and Thomas lurking out of sight. It wouldn't have made a difference if it was staring her in the eyes though, the darkness was so complete that any object, good or evil, was consumed by it. Silence buzzed in her ears and she found that the thud of heart had softened into the steady beat that she was accustomed to.

Nails clicked on the cement and Teresa jumped to the wall, pressing her palms against it and holding her breath until her lungs felt like stretched elastic. Eventually, the strain overcame her and she let out the stale air with an almighty breath. Her heart began to play the sound of drums again and she could feel her blood run through to the tips of her fingers and back again. The beast, whatever it was, had passed, Teresa was sure of that. But she knew that the danger hadn't. Not until she was safely with Thomas again.

The darkness closed in on her again. The shadows creeping closer with every passing second. The blackness sneaking up, ready to grab her at a moments notice.

The sharp end of a broken pipe sent a shrill shriek from her mouth and chills up her spine.

A loose thread of her shirt brushing against her skin that created a wave of goose bumps along her arms and legs.

The wet splash of a leaking tap that made her jump three feet into the air and crashing back down with a hollow _thump_.

Every thing was a trigger, everything was an enemy waiting to kidnap her and drag her away into the foreboding, cold obscurity that encompassed her.

The floor began to slope, a steady descent deeper into the darkness. Bloodied and bruised knees were all Teresa had to show for the downwards path. The concrete was washed with water. Every step was a splash. Every footfall sent water racing up her legs. The temperature plummeted and soon Teresa was shivering like she was in the Arctic Circle. The flow of water grew stronger and the blood on her knees was soon washed away. Teresa began to get scared. What if she was lost down here forever? What if this tunnel led to nowhere and she was forced to walk back up? What if she never saw Thomas again? Thoughts battle for control over her mind and their constant fighting brought a headache down upon her.

Teresa's arms turned to logs, and her legs were the stumps they came from. Her body grew heavy and she found herself being dragged down, pulled into the water by an unseen force.

She laid down in the gushing waves, closing her eyes as water washed over her face. The water picked her up and carried her along the wild river. Sometimes it would turn too slowly and she'd hit her head. Other times it would turn too sharply and she'd make contact with the wall.

Her eyelids fluttered and snapped open. She jumped to her feet, only to slip and fall in the deceptive water. She got to her feet again, this time slowly and carefully. Pale light crawled through the hollow cavern, Teresa could stretch her arms out and not see her hands, but it was enough. She waded through the water that gripped to her knees. Progress was slow but at least she was getting somewhere. The fact that she didn't know where she was going made everything harder. The water lapped against her thighs and she realized it was getting higher as the seconds passed. Her breath froze in her lungs and suddenly everything became serious. Suddenly this wasn't a steady and slow journey to get out of the cavern, now it was life or death.

Teresa spun around, looking for the way out, looking for the way in, looking for the way to anywhere. The light flickered, growing brighter and dimmer, stronger and weaker, like a strobe light in a party of one.

Teresa could feel the water rising.

She crashed into a wall. She stretched her arms out, spreading her fingers and feeling for any kind of exit: door, window, drainage pipe, anything. She ran along the entire wall, fingers brushing along the rough concrete. Every wall was the same. The other walls had no exits. But one was different.

Instead of the familiar concrete that her fingers had touched, cold hard metal slipped onto her fingers. The metal was black, and smooth. When Teresa pushed on it, it rippled with a metallic _clang_ reverberating al the way up and down, left and right.

The water splashed on Teresa's waist.

She pushed on the metal harder.

The water rose an inch.

The metal gave ground.

The water soaked her t-shirt.

She pushed harder, the metal groaned.

The tips of her hair wandered along the surface of the water.

The metal cracked, then crumpled, and gave way.

A tidal wave of water fell over Teresa. She found herself being thrown against the floor, against the wall. Nothing could stop the water's vicious onslaught. Water frothed and bubbled. Her hands struck concrete. Cold wetness flooded her nostrils. Her legs braced as they hit the wall. The water carried spun and twirled her around, regardless of whether her head was under or above the water.

The water settled and gave Teresa the respite she so desperately needed. Her head bobbed above the surface, her feet no longer able to rest on the floor. She swam towards the exit she'd made. Her tired arms barely broke the water's surface, like she was trying to swim through jelly.

She made it back to solid ground, a piece of concrete that was devoid of water. She looked back at the mess she'd created and gasped. The cavern was a washing machine. The broken pieces of metal tumbled in the frothing water, and all of it was being sucked into the far right corner. Teresa gazed at the corner curiously, thinking absent-mindedly. Once her focus returned to her, she jumped back in the washing machine. She made sure to avoid the metal as the water sucked spun her around. Eventually she was tossed into the corner and the strong current threatened to pull her under again. As she held herself up, kicking fiercely, she noticed the marks in the wall, to high for her to have noticed when the water was only knee-deep. The waters caught hold of her leg, but instead of resisting, Teresa let it drag her under.

In the dark waters, it was difficult to see anything, but the opening in the ground could be found with or without light. The broken pieces of metal rushed pass Teresa and were sucked into the unknown, and Teresa, knowing that she could, went down after it.

She hit wet ground. Again. A waterfall crashed upon her back and drove her to the floor. She rolled away and found dry ground. Teresa rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, an ever-changing kaleidoscope of colors that her mind played for her in her frustration and weariness. She began to laugh, and cry. The beautiful sound sang up and down the wide tunnel. She heard her own laugh mixed with tears and silence rushed in to claim her. Her face transformed from the pure relief it was filled with, to a stern mask of worry and responsibility.

Teresa pushed herself to her feet. She looked around, eyes scanning the room for… anything. All she saw was bright lights that lit up closed containers. Teresa stepped up to the closest of them. She walked around it, but it was what it was; a wooden container. She stepped up to it and knocked on the wood. Nothing. She knocked harder. Nothing. She kicked the box. Nothing. Teresa sighed in exasperation and sat down. The box cut the glare from the lights and she was able to relax.

Teresa's eyes were growing heavy when she felt the box move. She looked up, so tired she was ready to let the wooden wall fall on top of her. But instead she scooted away and let the wall crash to the ground. What was within shocked her. She reached deep within the archives of her memories, but whatever she knew about it had been stolen from her. She stepped into the confines of the box, and stroked the gleaming, silver… thing. Curiosity pushed her, tempted her and she began to slide onto it. But the crashing of wood on concrete stopped her.

Teresa stepped out from the box and stepped back. Her eyes widened. Before her, boxes were opening themselves. Within them were more of these… things. Teresa watched in awe as they stepped into the open. Green, buzzing and clanging. Over a hundred of them lined up next to Teresa's one. As one, the machines fell silent.


End file.
